(1) Paris, Mo. Oct 14th 1849 My Dear Mother Late on Saturday evening last I received a long and very interesting epistle from E. at the conclusion of which were these words, "Mother wishes you to write her immediately: now don't forget". It had not occurred to me previous to reading that sentence that I had been neglecting any of my correspondents much less those who reside under the "Sheltering Wing" as Jos quite poetically denominates what was formerly known as the Black, and at a later date as the White Cottage, but upon running my thoughts back to the date of my last communication to them, I was unable to fix it with any degree of certainty - in fact without knowing anything about it more than it was "long, long ago". As evidence however of the fact that my neglect has not been willful, I suggest that I am now employed in devoting the first leisure moment I have had since to an atonement for my faults, or nonfeasance as the lawyery term is; if indeed the effusions of my empty brain are a sufficient atonement for any, even the most trivial departure from the line of duty. Jos' letter confirmed what was told me a day or two previous to its receipt by the Campbellite clergyman of this Place, Mr. Thomas, who had been hold (2) ing a meeting at Houston and spent a night a Col Price's; that he, too, had bidden farewell for a season to that happy, paternal roof as a preparatory step to leaving it permanently and pushing his lonely, unguided, inexperienced bark out up the stormy waters of the sea of life. I am truly glad that such an opportunity is afforded him of improving his mind and preparing himself for future usefulness and I doubt not he will use it in a manner which much respect. But as I read his simple announcement of the fact the thoughts which sprang into my mind almost spontaneously were of a sad and depressing nature. I could not but think of the uncertainty which yet hangs around his future career. Though now his pathway is light and joyous and no clouds appear to obscure the brightness of the star of hope which burns before him, yet no human ego can penetrate the mysteries of the future - no voice reveal the secrets which are hidden beneath its veil. There will be the frowns of fortune, and ten thousand temptations of which the youthful heart has dreamed not, to discourage and drive him from that course of integrity and virtue which those must follow who hope ever to be an honor to themselves and friends or useful to their fellow men. There will be the innumerable disappointments and countless perplexities to hang around his footsteps as he struggles on through the rugged road to some fancied resting place which seems to invite him onward, and finally the disheartening mortification of finding that all the pretensions of Earth are vain, heartless, hollow and transitory. But it was not he alone of whom I thought. There was once a time which is now rapidly receding (3) with the accelerated flight of years, when the rude stone hearth of the "Black Cottage" was surrounded by a circle within which sorrow and care was almost a stranger. The morning dawned and the evening closed on happy, guileless hearts, and saw with those whose watchful eyes and careful, protecting hands and warded off the chilling blast of adversity, there were no anxious, thoughts for the future. But time brought changes and a link was separated from that family chain to find a home in a distant clime. Years rolled on and others had been scattered abroad on the cold bosom of the selfish world. Little knew those who remained of the wound which each separation caused those, who, the prosperity and adversity, in clouds and sunshine, in joy and sadness had ever been the same kind, devoted protectors. One by one, as the tempest rends the boughs of the oak, and turns them away forever, the rest were taken and stewed over the earth till one, only, remained to draw his seat clean round that [obscured] hearth, and think in sadness and silence of departed companions. "Where are they whose merry voices, joined in song, once made these gloomy walls the abode of happiness & joy" was a question which if never expressed in words, was doubtless often in his thoughts. "Over one, the grass has closed forever, and many a weary league intervenes between the others & their deserted home: I alone am left, to console the decline of those who have witnessed the gradual dissolution of their fireside". And now, he, the remaining prop and solace of your advancing years, has with the rest crossed the threshold and stepped forth into the arena of life to fight the battle which will be the cause of shedding dishonor or [poison] upon his memory. I know not that I guess right in supposing that you must now feel doubly lonely under the roof where you have experienced so (4) much that is dear to the memory as well as bore a heavy, heavy amount of that which renders life a burden. But I trust that the hopes of one day seeing those whom you have sent forth from your bosom, become favored and useful members of society, and which is all that can compensate you for your endless care & will not be disappointed. I hope that each member of that household band will remember his home and resolve never to disgrace it. For my own part, though, I know the toilsome labors of a life time could never repay the deep debt of gratitude which I have incurred. I trust that each year which passes by will render me more & more worthy the parentage I bear. Tis the only return I can make for the never failing stream of affection, kindness and sympathy which has flowed around me & which has strewed so much of my pathway with flowers. The mail will soon close & I must bid you dear mother good night. My health is excellent & I am become more at home here. Give my love to all should there be others to receive it & Believe in your most affct ECW [postmark]Paris Oct 16 FREE Col Elias Winchell P. Master Greenfield Shelby Co Mo.