Who would have thought that a letter written by my great grandfather 186 years ago would have survived. And yet, there it was, in a drawer at the Virginia State Library in Richmond. Bo and Mark, two of my sons, and I had gone there hunting for our roots.
William Hume Stith, who was seven years old, had written a one-page letter, dated June 15, 1830, to his mother. He had written in ink, perhaps with a quill.
“My Pa says I must write to you and in obedience to his orders I now sit down to do so,” William told his mother, whose maiden name was Rebecca Harris. He said he missed her and his brother, John, and he made a promise:
“I will endeavour [sic] to be as good as I can but you Know [sic] what little boys like me are.”
Coming Monday: More