A lengthy and engaging post–Civil War letter combining travel narrative, regional description, and deeply personal reflections on family and relocation. Writing from Shaftsbury, Vermont, Roser contrasts the landscapes of Western New York and Vermont, offering vivid descriptions of terrain, climate, and scenery, including a reference to the observatory atop Mount Anthony. The letter provides a detailed account of 19th-century rail and stage travel logistics, including missed connections, overnight delays, and even a railroad collision, illustrating the realities of mid-19th-century transportation networks. Of particular interest are the intimate family passages: a warm reunion with his son and daughter-in-law, contrasted with a notably restrained and ambiguous comment regarding his wife (“draw your own conclusions”), adding a layer of personal intrigue. The closing includes a curious folkloric or anecdotal reference (“the man that killed the lion”), hinting at shared stories between correspondents. Condition: Good; folded letter with light toning, minor wear, and some faint areas, but generally legible.
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Very Dear Friends — Lest you may think that I have forgotten the friends I left behind me I take this the first favorable opportunity to disabuse your minds and to let you know that though comfortable and happy in the bosom of my family and surrounded by a large circle of friends and associates of former days with whom I took sweet counsel and went to the house of God in company, yet Western N.Y. with its genial climate, its beautiful landscapes, and its almost interminable plains forming a striking contrast with the abrupt hills and mountain peaks that traverse the entire length of the state of Vermont with all its kindred associations is still held in grateful remembrance and will be cherished in memory through all the future years of my transient life. But the scenery here though different from that which meets the eye of the traveller in Western N.Y. is nevertheless lovely and picturesque and grand. You would be diverted to pay a visit to the observatory on the summit of Mount Anthony, a detached peak of the mountain range situated in the town of Bennington whose lofty height reaches 250 or 300 feet above the summit of the mountain, with the aid of a telescope you can see all the kingdoms of the world almost in a moment of time. But I must return to what will probably interest you more than these flights of fancy and give you a condensed outline of my journey home. I left your house as you will recollect on Monday the 1st Nov. reached West China about sunset or a little earlier, took my trunks and went to Java Corners that night, took the stage thence to Attica on Tuesday morning, arrived at Attica in time to take the train for Troy that night but being considerably fatigued with my journey by stage I preferred laying over till morning when I came out refreshed for the next day and night’s campaign. I took the train to Batavia at 8 o’clock where I learned as I had previously anticipated the Troy and Boston road made no connection with the Western Vermont road so to obviate this dilemma I bought a through ticket to Rutland, arrived in Troy some time in the evening took a train on the Washington and Rutland road, journeyed to Rutland, train due at 10 o’clock but a collision having occurred on the road that day the train was detained till after 12 o’clock to give time to clear away the debris; as soon as the wreck was cleared away and the way was clear we put under way and arrived at Rutland at half past three. There I made connection with the Western Vermont road and at five o’clock took a train going to Bennington, at a little before 12 m reached the Shaftsbury station and in a few minutes thereafter I was in the embrace of my children — it was a happy surprise. I used the term children — I mean Henry and his wife, a most amiable and affectionate woman; she has already as large a place in my regard as my own daughter. I cannot make any distinction. She insists upon my not leaving them. I don’t know but her appeals backed with those of her husband will prevail. Angeline is at Hoosac Falls fourteen miles distant from here so I can service the journey to Hoosac — but concerning the mother of my children I cannot write anything good, bad or indifferent — I have not seen her but once and then our interview was very short — draw your own conclusions. My space is nearly filled out. I cannot tell you all by name that you will one and all share my best wishes which is the best I can do for you now — but Elmerett if you have found the man that killed the lion send me word by the next mail and if not tell me and I will tell you where he lives and you may go and find him. I shall bring this to a close wishing you all a merry Christmas
