Letters About The Inn at Grafton

The following is a letter dated June 1, 1941 written by Anna Hunt to Margaret Deland, author of Golden Yesterdays and her reply:

Dear Mrs. Deland,

Your story, Golden Yesterdays interests me very much, principally because I heard a part of it from the lips of my husband, Harlan Phelps, more than forty years ago.

Like you, I was an orphan, father having died when I was three and mother when I was seven. The day after mother was buried we four children were separated.

In 1896 my brother was living in Windham, Vermont. I asked him to get me a place to work so I could be near him. He did; at Grafton but it was for only a short time. Then I visited him and Mrs. Francis Phelps, the "Ma" Phelps of your story, I believe, who had seen me in the Baptist Church at Grafton and, as she said, "like my looks" wrote me and asked me to help her with the cooking for the summer.

I didn't like the idea of hotel life, but Mrs. Harris, with whom I was staying at the time, said, "it was a very nice place, not at all like a hotel". I wanted very much to go back to school and thought, there I could earn more, so I wrote Mrs. Phelps I would come.

I'll never forget the day Harlan Phelps came for me. It was a cold, rainy day in early April. The roads were icy and muddy. Finally, as we rode along, the horse threw a clod of mud right on my mouth and I laughed. Harlan said, "You are the funniest (a strange) girl I ever saw. Most girls wouldn't laugh at that." I was eighteen then, sixty-two now but I still love the feel of rain on my face and some things still seem very funny.

Because I wanted an education and meant to have it, I avoided young men, in fact, I wasn't a bit interested in them at all. Harlan's wife, Jennie, had died in the spring of 1896, this was 1897. Harlan was lonely. He would talk with me, tell me about the celebrities that had been guests at the hotel; the wonderful creamers he cared for that Francis drove; about California where he went when he was only sixteen and the general history of town and family. We grew to need each other. I was old for my age, he was young for his.

June 29, 1898, with forty years, two months and six days between us, we were married. It is something I've never regretted. July 25, 1899 Marion Tryphena Phelps was born. Tryphena for Harlan's mother and only sister and for which Marion is not thanking me now. Marion was blue-eyed and light haired like her father. February 6, 1901 May Wilson Phelps was born. She was dark as sister was light. Harlan was very proud of them and still could be, for they are not only fine-looking but they are fine women with fine husbands and children.

Spring of 1901 business was bad so Harlan sold his half of the hotel to Mrs. Francis Phelps who tried to run it with the help of her grandson, Harlan Leonard. He knew nothing about running a hotel so it failed and the place was again sold.

We had moved to what probably was the Hall house when you visited Grafton, the fourth house from the bridge on the west side of the street. April 26, 1905 Harlan died and, of course, everything was changed for us. Two years later we left Grafton and I married John Hunt, which explains the change of name. I have a fine son, John Junior, twenty-four, unmarried, with whom I now live. I am having Golden Days now. Long ago I realized money can't buy them.

I have been in Grafton several times for a few hours, on my way to or from Boston, but last summer I spent a week there. It is the same, old Grafton; the same hotel. I love it; every stick and stone of it. I have tried to tell my children all I know of it. I would like them to love it as I do.

Somehow, I thought you felt as I do about it, because so much that was wonderful and beautiful came into your life there, so that's why I am writing you and sending you a few snapshots I took of places that meant so much to me and I hope will to you.

Very sincerely yours,

Anna Hunt

PS: I found such a good photograph of the Congregational Church at the Post Office, I did not take one of it.

The reply:

Kennebunkport, Maine

June 24, 1941

My dear Mrs. Hunt:

I am sorry that your friendly letter, telling me of Grafton, and mentioning so many familiar names, has remained so long unanswered. The truth is, I have been so occupied in trying the finish the book, GOLDEN YESTERDAYS -- which is to come out sometime this Fall — that my correspondence has, of necessity, been neglected.

Thank you especially for the photographs you sent me. Some of them are very familiar — the Baptist Church is one of them and, of course, the Inn. Directly opposite the Inn as a house in which Mr. and Mrs. Willey lived. At first I thought that the picture you had labeled "Leveret Phelps' former home," was this Willey house; but, looking back on it now, I recall that that house didn't have bay windows. I remember Harlan Phelps, who was "Pa" Phelps' understudy. He was very kind and pleasant to us young people. I remember that when we had a picnic on one of the mountains overlooking Grafton — where we went in the evening so that we might be there at dawning to see the sunrise — Harlan helped "Pa" Phelps carry various things up to the place where we were to camp for the night.

Some four or five years ago I drove over to Grafton from Walpole, and had a glimpse of the town and met the gentleman who now owns the hotel. Some day perhaps I shall go there again and walk along the Houghtonville road!

All the photographs you sent are very interesting, and bring back the days of my youth, particularly the one of James Duncan's daughter. I haven't seen Mr. Duncan for more than fifty years, so I don't know whether he is still living.

Thank you again for your letter, and for the pictures, I am

Sincerely yours,

Margaret Deland