Kiukiang, China, October, 1873

Kiukiang, China, Jan. 3d/74

My Dear Sister:

I suppose you have been patiently waiting a couple of months for a letter from me, and that when you get this one you will say, "It's time he was writing." I wish to say, however, that I have no excuse to offer for being so long, for I don't think the occasion demands it. I kept writing for several months before I got any letters, and when at last they began to come in, I determined to write only as often as I received anything to answer; consequently when the incoming mail did not bring me any letters from home, the outgoing would not take any for home. Two mails (fortnightly) came in without bringing me any home letters, so I quietly sat upon my dignity until the folks there would conclude to write. The next mail brought me a letter from Ag. and one from Wm., and, as my custom is, I had them both answered by the time the next mail should go out. Unfortunately the mail did not go out at all (through a change in the arrangements, it leaves here now only once a month, for a time), and so both letters, written in the middle of December, are still lying in my desk, and will not reach America any sooner than this.

Our mail, however, still comes in every two weeks, and the last time it brought me the second letter I had received from you since I left home. How a little missive of four pages only can travel 9,000 miles and yet stick together, is a matter for wonder. But it has done it, not only in this case, but in both the others where I received letters from home; and I have about come to the conclusion that the reason you write short letters is because you hate long ones, and I am doing wrong by sending you such. So I shall shorten this one, and by and by I think we can send all we want to send on postal cards.

Since I am in a pettish mood this evening, I may as well go on complaining until I get through, for I have several other topics to grumble about. I have sent, in almost all the letters written home since I reached Japan, little trinkets of different kinds, but you have never told me whether you received them or not or whether you cared anything for them, if you did get them. And I have taken up more than one precious hour in preparing an article for the press, which were all simply wasted if those articles were not published. Yet so far as you are concerned, I have been left to guess the fate of all I send away, whereas if I knew they were not published, I would stop writing at once, and spend my time to better purpose. I sent a letter from San Francisco to the Athens Messenger, and wrote to Kinnison to send you a copy of the paper. You never told me whether he did or not, nor have I received a line from him either since I left home. And I have written half a dozen letters for the Advocate, and another will go out with this mail; nor has any of you breathed a syllable as to their fate. Long ago I asked to have the Advocate sent me (for no copy comes to Kiukiang), and I have been eagerly watching, and in vain, at every mail, for its appearance. I suppose I would get those numbers which have an account of the proceedings of the Ohio Conference, but is too late now to think of getting them. The Advocate would be appreciated here as it never was in America, if I could only get it, but there's the rub. I wish you would tell me if anything has been done or is going to be done about it, and put an end to my suspense.

If I could think of anything else to grumble about I would do it, for I am in a very cross mood. And when I remember that it will be two months before you know that I have been scolding you, it makes me crosser still. I feel like doing something to somebody, if everybody weren't out of my reach; so the only thing I can do is to sit down in sullen silence, "nursing my wrath to keep it warm," and moodily waiting for a change in affairs.

Since New Year' s Eve we have had a very cold spell. There are several inches of snow on the ground, and a keen, cutting, January wind, makes it very unpleasant out of doors. Yesterday, I went with Bro. Hart into the city to preaching. Our boys in the school there were huddled in their room, without any fire, and the large opening in the center of the roof, made to let in the light, had admitted the snow, which covered the ground floor beneath. The ragged little fellows stay in there 8 or 9 hours every day, and still don't seem to mind it. When we came away, we passed a tattered beggar on the street, dragging along by the hind legs the skeleton of a dead dog. One third of the hair was off, occasioned by disease and starvation, and the bare back was covered with scabs and sores. Yet the wretched fellow was dragging it home for his supper. I did not envy him his feast. Please address all letters written in the month of March to Peking, China, care Rev. H. H. Lowry, via San Francisco.

Yrs. aff'ly,

A. Stritmatter

P. S.

The leaves I enclose are from the tea plant. I got them when I went out to Mt. Lee San See.A.