Letter from Horace Sumner Lyman on his father's temporary retirement and attending lectures
Dear Father,
I received your letter from East Hampton last evening, and was of course very glad to hear from you. I was sorry that you were so much tried as not to enjoy the Syracuse meeting to the full. It must have been an interesting occasion. There was a reference to you in the [Advance?], which you may have seen.
I do not suppose that I altogether appreciate your feelings on [?] your [?] home, but I think I do some. I presume that there is nearly as much of pain in it as of pleasure, but therefore all the better. Your eventful and [?] life, as much of it as is behind you, is of more and more meaning to me and the rest of your children. This will be a rest spell for you, so that when you come back you will be able to do another thirty years of work for Oregon, or the coast. I don’t suppose that there is any need of enjoining on you not to overdo. Take everything easy, rest and be refreshed.
Things with me are going well. I am making progress in my reading gradually extending my acquaintances, making more or less effort to make something of myself socially, reading considerably, and gradually fattening up. I feel perfectly well, unless I happen to eat so much as to be stupid, or take so little exercise as to feel lazy. I guard against these two evils, however. The air seems to have a certain amount of lightness. I feel more like laughing and am inclined to levity I [thought?] more than formerly. I went over to Berkeley last Monday and heard Prof [Leeontes’?] lecture before his class in geology. I am going again next Monday. The Prof is an exceedingly interesting lecturer, his language clear and flowing, words about as well selected as is possible. His voice is high and in itself poor, but you don’t notice that except for a minute or two. [?] Benton and [?] spoke about you, and a good many others have done so. I told them you would probably spend more time as you went back.
There have been a couple of showers here. It has been rainy at home. All seems to be going well up there. [Vemus?] went to Portland in four hours. I am ploughing through [?] History of Philosophy. It is rather heavy. Tough clay soil.
Keep me informed of things and yourself. Good Bye, your loving son Horace.
I received your letter from East Hampton last evening, and was of course very glad to hear from you. I was sorry that you were so much tried as not to enjoy the Syracuse meeting to the full. It must have been an interesting occasion. There was a reference to you in the [Advance?], which you may have seen.
I do not suppose that I altogether appreciate your feelings on [?] your [?] home, but I think I do some. I presume that there is nearly as much of pain in it as of pleasure, but therefore all the better. Your eventful and [?] life, as much of it as is behind you, is of more and more meaning to me and the rest of your children. This will be a rest spell for you, so that when you come back you will be able to do another thirty years of work for Oregon, or the coast. I don’t suppose that there is any need of enjoining on you not to overdo. Take everything easy, rest and be refreshed.
Things with me are going well. I am making progress in my reading gradually extending my acquaintances, making more or less effort to make something of myself socially, reading considerably, and gradually fattening up. I feel perfectly well, unless I happen to eat so much as to be stupid, or take so little exercise as to feel lazy. I guard against these two evils, however. The air seems to have a certain amount of lightness. I feel more like laughing and am inclined to levity I [thought?] more than formerly. I went over to Berkeley last Monday and heard Prof [Leeontes’?] lecture before his class in geology. I am going again next Monday. The Prof is an exceedingly interesting lecturer, his language clear and flowing, words about as well selected as is possible. His voice is high and in itself poor, but you don’t notice that except for a minute or two. [?] Benton and [?] spoke about you, and a good many others have done so. I told them you would probably spend more time as you went back.
There have been a couple of showers here. It has been rainy at home. All seems to be going well up there. [Vemus?] went to Portland in four hours. I am ploughing through [?] History of Philosophy. It is rather heavy. Tough clay soil.
Keep me informed of things and yourself. Good Bye, your loving son Horace.
- Title
- Letter from Horace Sumner Lyman on his father's temporary retirement and attending lectures
- Description
- Letter from Horace Sumner Lyman to his father, Reverend Horace Lyman. He discusses his father's temporary retirement and attending lectures at Berkeley during his time in Oakland, California.
- Creator
- Lyman, Horace Sumner
- Source
- Pacific University Archives
- Date
- 1879-1883
- Is Part Of
- Lyman Family Papers
- Format
- Letter
- Language
- English
- Identifier
- PUA_MS31_41_c
- Rights
- http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/CNE/1.0/
- Type
- Text
- Media
-
https://exhibits.lib.pacificu.edu/files/original/f570584803f4591832fb8e6b228cadca.pdf -
Dear Father,<br/><br/>I received your letter from East Hampton last evening, and was of course very glad to hear from you. I was sorry that you were so much tried as not to enjoy the Syracuse meeting to the full. It must have been an interesting occasion. There was a reference to you in the [Advance?], which you may have seen. <br/><br/>I do not suppose that I altogether appreciate your feelings on [?] your [?] home, but I think I do some. I presume that there is nearly as much of pain in it as of pleasure, but therefore all the better. Your eventful and [?] life, as much of it as is behind you, is of more and more meaning to me and the rest of your children. This will be a rest spell for you, so that when you come back you will be able to do another thirty years of work for Oregon, or the coast. I don’t suppose that there is any need of enjoining on you not to overdo. Take everything easy, rest and be refreshed.<br/><br/>Things with me are going well. I am making progress in my reading gradually extending my acquaintances, making more or less effort to make something of myself socially, reading considerably, and gradually fattening up. I feel perfectly well, unless I happen to eat so much as to be stupid, or take so little exercise as to feel lazy. I guard against these two evils, however. The air seems to have a certain amount of lightness. I feel more like laughing and am inclined to levity I [thought?] more than formerly. I went over to Berkeley last Monday and heard Prof [Leeontes’?] lecture before his class in geology. I am going again next Monday. The Prof is an exceedingly interesting lecturer, his language clear and flowing, words about as well selected as is possible. His voice is high and in itself poor, but you don’t notice that except for a minute or two. [?] Benton and [?] spoke about you, and a good many others have done so. I told them you would probably spend more time as you went back. <br/><br/>There have been a couple of showers here. It has been rainy at home. All seems to be going well up there. [Vemus?] went to Portland in four hours. I am ploughing through [?] History of Philosophy. It is rather heavy. Tough clay soil. <br/><br/>Keep me informed of things and yourself. Good Bye, your loving son Horace.