Sherry Chapmanby Sherry Chapman
First published in August/September, 2004, Volume 1, Issue4 of The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.
Dear Abby,
How much does your husband want for his reefer? I can go up to $25 a pound. —Opie Umm, alley of South Main
Dear Opie,
Mr. Borden’s reefer is not for sale. He uses it daily when he is relaxing after he gets home from making his business rounds.
Dear Abby,
I am ill. Doctor was here and said it was Summer Complaint. Do not know how. The only thing I had yesterday was some of the mutton you brought over Tuesday. Please come. If you have any Garfield tea on hand, please bring. I am, most indebted. -—Judith Russell
Dear Judith,
I have told Lizzie of your note and will be there as soon as I finish my column. I am sorry. Somehow your note got mixed up with the letters I received to answer.
Dear Abby,
Did you know that your servant girl, Bridget, does her job of washing the windows very badly? She suds them all up with a broom from the barn, letting them all dry before she rinses them—if you can call it “rinsing.” Just sloshes a dipperful of water in their general direction. I write to you so she does not overhear my telling you. She also spends work time talking with my girl, Mary, a little too frequently. They chat over the fence about townsfolk and the families they work for who got drunk when, who has more-than-hand-holding relationships with whom, quarrels they’ve overheard — — Of course this is a healthy outlet for them and I am not suggesting you try to curtail Bridget from this pleasure that makes both girls happy and smiling workers. Just wanted to mention the windows. —Mrs. Kelly, next door
Dear Mrs. Kelly,
Though we have not spoken these several years we have lived near each other, I do thank you for the note. Looking out the window the other day, I was beginning to think I needed eyeglasses. Mr. Borden will be glad to know you have saved me a trip to the oculist.
Dear Abby,
I’m in dire straits and I don’t know what t’ do. I lost my job in the mill for not comin’ in on time (I went in early a couple of days). And now me rent is due and I kinnot pay it. Surely in a town as fine as Fall River there must be somethin’ for us unfortunates who are down on their luck. Can ya lead me to it, dear Abby? —Angus McWhine, (soon to be in) the streets of Fall River
Dear Angus,
Do not despair. There is an easy way to make money in Fall River and I am surprised no one has thought to do it yet. The city is always putting in new roads and paving. There are signs near every work site promising payment if you kill a worker. I suppose they have too many and are too kind to fire the extras. I am sure you’ve seen them: “Kill a worker – $100, 5 years in jail”. I think the ‘5 years in jail’ must mean they’ll give you a job there on top of paying you. Good luck to you.
Dear Abby,
If it is anywhere near 9 am on Thursday, August the 4th, I implore you to get out of the house immediately! Trust me on this, will you? Your life depends on it! —H. Knowlton, Marion
Dear Mr. Knowlton,
Here we go again, is it? Have you nothing better to do with your time? I am going to go against what my publisher tells me about answering every letter I receive. I promise you, sir. This is the last . . . . slkdrtri jkrgfrjeijdfiojfgrojp9poifdji
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Dear folks of Fall River,
I have been called over to the Borden house and find that Mrs. Abby Borden has fainted. I found her column in her typewriter and am mailing it off to her publisher. I’m sure she will appreciate it when she comes to.
Dr. Seabury W. Bowen
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