✍🏼Letters From Greenwood: December 29, 1876 – Oil Fever and a Poem
Letters From Greenwood
Family, farm life, and everyday stories from 1870s rural New York
When Emily Brewster married George Lisk in 1872, she left her hometown of Greenwood behind and began her new life nearly ninety miles away in Varick. Her father, William Brewster, made sure she never felt too far from home. His letters, often funny, sometimes poignant, carried the heartbeat of Greenwood—news of family, neighbors, chores, and even gossip—keeping Emily connected to the people and place she loved.
I have been writing for Sarah wrote to you but she don't send it time to do so or forgets to do. I hardly know which it is. Edward and his father has been here and stayed three weeks they have gone on East and will go to New York before they return most likely. I do not know if they will visit you or not. Margaret came over while I was here. Had a letter from Susan a while ago they were all well at that home. She sent some verses that she wrote and I will send a copy of them to you if I do not forget to. Sarah came here a few days before she went away. She is well as usual. Your Aunt Jane is rather poorly in her mind has not been quite right. I do not know if it will come around all right again or not. Your sister Jane is here yet and has got a little girl a week old she is doing well. Mort is talking of going to keeping house again but I do not know if they will or not. We are having some talk of Gil. I have is a well on State Creek down about 1200 feet and most everybody thinks they will find oil. There have been some strangers around leasing land and it has made our ears stick right up, and if this town should prove to be a good oil section I don't know what will become of us. If it should be so why then we shall all get stovepipe hats and button shoes and then walk about in a very genteel and foolish manner no doubt of it. There is a great deal of talk about putting down test well all around in all directions but what will be done I do not know. Friday noon Susan Bines and two boys have just arrived all well. So you see we have a chance to see our relatives so if you could be here too we would most all be together again but will that day ever come. I do not expect you ever see the family all together again such an event is not probable when you write to Susan again you and drop Shaw and put Brewster in the place of it we can never tell today what will be tomorrow I do not remember of writing to you since we finished paying. I guess I have not for if I had I should told of E -- being here for he was in the hay field more than I was. The barn is almost full of hay when there is two large stacks about 20 loads in each stack. Some says there is most 70 tons in the hole. Well suppose we throw often times and then there is quite a lot of it after all. There was a good crop of rye and there is 12 or 14 acres of buckwheat but then we are not sure of the buckwheat filling good there is a good growth of straw but we must wait and see if it feels good. I wish you could tell me what more to write for I am pumped dry to think of anything to write about. Today is Saturday and I expect that Susan will start for home the first of the week most likely and then, when shall we all meet again. Shall we see each other next year perhaps someone will drop out of our place and leave an empty chair not to be filled Again by the same one who can tell. Write to us often as you can and we will try to keep you informed as to our circumstances and we will hope for other visits in other years.
Our Wants
W.R. Brewster
Reflection
Two years have passed since William’s earlier letters, but his voice is just as lively. This time, his news ranges from the joyful—Jane with a new baby—to the unsettling—Aunt Jane’s declining mental health. There are family visits, full hay barns, and fields of rye and buckwheat, all reminders of the rhythms of farm life.
What stands out most, though, is Greenwood’s brush with oil fever. The talk of a test well going down 1,200 feet had neighbors dreaming of wealth. William teases that if the town struck oil, they’d all be strutting about “in stovepipe hats and button shoes,” playacting the part of newly rich gentry. His humor shines through again, using exaggeration to poke fun at the excitement—and maybe to temper expectations.
The closing verse, “Our Wants,” feels like both a moral lesson and a gentle self-reminder. Wants can drain the purse, he writes, and better to keep “an even tide.” It’s a fitting companion to his comments on the oil speculation: beneath the wit, William urges balance, modesty, and steadiness.
Together with the January and February 1874 letters, this one shows the range of what Emily received from home. Sometimes gossip, sometimes instructions, sometimes humor—but always her father’s personality, strong and clear, bridging the miles between Greenwood and Varick.
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