Below is the transcript of a letter from George Augustus Morse to his wife and son. You can see an image of the original letter.
It now devolves upon me my dear and venerable old lady to write that letter which you have made so much fuss about.
In the first place I'm sick. I've got a cold, and sore throat, and cough, and one Mackerel (I eat the other today). My throat is sore so far down that when I cough it tears the lining to my boot(?) eyes. Last night I took some composition and it composed me wonderfully. Tonight I am perfectly composed. I have been extremely lonesome since you went away; one night I cried so much that when I woke up in the morning I thought Dana had wet the bed. I put a sheet of blotting paper on and soaked up all the water, however. Yesterday morning I had Griddle cakes for breakfast. This morning I had Griddle cakes and Mackerel, an tomorrow morning for a change I'm to have mackerel and Griddle cakes. I have had fine luck with Griddle Cakes. They are so light that I have to ballast them with shot to keep them in my stomach. They rise tremendously. One of them rose so high that I had to climb one of the truss in the back yard to butter it. I burnt one so black that I had to light a lamp to see where it was, and when I threw it out doors people thought a thunder tempest was coming up, and quite a number of people opened their umbrellas. It looked cloudy all day, but finally an unfortunate biddy eat it up, and the sun shone out immediately. The unfortunate biddy, however instantly exploded into three quarts of fragments and a pile of bones. You can stay as long as you please, but if you intend staying over Sunday, please let me know, so I can hunt up a girl to set up with Sunday night. The Doctor has brought you some more cucumbers to pickle, but some of them are as big as my leg. I have salt and watered or water and salted the small ones. Mrs. Farmer came home yesterday. She has been staying at Randolph, since Saturday I think. I letter came for her Tuesday eve, for her to come back to Boston again. I don't know whether she is going or not.
We are having pretty considerable good times here together.( She went up to William Sargents and got her supplies the night she got home.) It is real cool here this week. Last night there was quite a frost on the low lands, but you plants are all right. I have had some fire every evening.
Dana my chipely block, I am not going to neglect you. Do you pick up Gamma.s pears? Don.t eat them till the stems stick out all over you like bristles. Does your mustache grow well? Better put a poultice and draw it out. What do you shave with, the cats tail or a clothes pin. I suppose Grandpa Bates give you ?, Lamb, Sheep, ? every day. I don't. have any little boy to wake up and call for water in the night. Aren't you coming home pretty soon to see "good old daddy?" I've got a little "herring" and if the fish man comes a long Saturday I'll get you some to eat Sunday if you come home. "Where is the herring? When fish Man?" "Where chipely block?" "Now tell Dana all bout it 'gin"
Don't you worry about my sore throat. It is all well now. Composition cured it. 'member love to John
Good night Bobeledink.
I remain
My dear Madam,
With the utmost respect
Your most Obedient Servant and devoted husband
George Augustus Morse
To Mrs. Mary B. H. Morse
South Abingtion Mass
Give my love to
Father and Mother Bates,
Abbia, Charles Ellia, Julian, Allia and Dana
Yours Truly
George Augustus