Steam Ram Switzerland
June 21st 1862
My darling Nina,
It goes
to my heart to grieve you
with the sorrowful news
which, this time I am obliged
to send you. You are
very young to bear such
great distress, but a cruel
blow has fallen on us all,
and you must bear your
share of the burthen, my
darling–Our dear, dear
Father has been very ill,
ever since we came to him,
but we hoped almost against
hope for his recovery, until
yesterday, when the surgeon
[page 2]
told us, that we must
lose him. Happily, my
darling, during these last
hours of his life, he suffered
no pain. Every comfort in
the world was provided
for him. Mother and I sat
up with him all night; her
tender words soothing him
to the very last, when he
died with a sweet smile
on his lips, and able to
understand the love that
was with him. Death seems
a very awful thing to you,
my darling, and sad it
is to those who are left
behind, but your dear
Father parted from this
life so tenderly and calmly,
that he seemed rather to
be going to rest, than passing
from one world to another.
[page 3]
His last breath was as free
from pain as that of an infant,
and his last look was a faint
smile of tender recognition
to mother. Grieve for us,
darling, but not for Father.
He has gone to a happier
world, where no pain or
sorrow can ever come to
torture him again. He is
free and happy forever:
and even the form, which
we still have with us, wears
a look of inexpressible sweet-
ness and serenity. He asked
several times, most lovingly,
after his dear little Nina
and Willie.
Mother is completely
broken down. She acted
with the calmness of a martyr
from the moment she was
told that Father was sinking,
[page 4]
she was able to comfort him
to the last moment, by gentle
words and looks of love. The
consciousness of this somewhat
softens the blow to her, but
her affliction is as profound
as her love was for Father.
She is now lying down and
hopes to be strong enough to
leave this place (Cairo) with
me to-morrow. We intend to
carry our precious burthen
to Philadelphia, where we will
lay him peacefully to rest at
Laurel Hill. We shall be
at home now before long,
but I cannot tell you the
exact date. If Miss Brooke
will invite Willie to see you
on Saturday, I should be
much pleased–it would b
a comfort to you two little
ones to be together even for
[page 5]
a little while–But do no
go out to the country; it
would break Mother’s heart
if you were to get sick now.
You must keep well for her
sake–remember we are all
the consolation that she possesses
in the world, now. Brother
was not with dear Father.
He was obliged to stay down
the river with Uncle Alfred
and the Rams. It will be
several days before he
receives the mournful tidings.
It is right that you
should
know, my darling, that
Father’s wound must have
been fatal from the very
first, though the extent of
the injury was not fully
appreciated by the surgeons
then. We shall have a sad
household when we gt home,
[page 6]
but it will be pleasant for
those of us remaining, to be
quietly together once more.
Do not be unhappy, my darling:
we will hope all to join
dear Father, in his happy
home some of these days–
Besides it is our duty to
cheer and sustain our poor
Mother, whose loss is even
heavier than ours–Miss
Brooke will be kind to
you I know for Mother’s sake.
When you see Miss Blanche
Hunter giver her my love.
She will know of our cruel
loss as soon as you–Tell
her I could not write to
her. I received your two
nicely written notes, this
morning, a few hours too late.
I am glad you are such a
good girl, and are learning
[left side margin of page 6]
to write so well–Adieu my darling–with dearest
love to Willie when you see him–your devoted Sister
[top margin of page 1]
Write at once and direct to.
208 South Eighth Street
Philadelphia
unsigned letter of Mary Ellet on the death of her father Charles Ellet, Jr., 1810-1862, commander of the Queen of the West, mortally wounded in the battle for Memphis
MSS 276
