By the time this letter was written in 1879, Colorado was well known as the best place for people suffering from tuberculosis (known as “consumption”) to rest and recover. It was the nation’s leading cause of death in the 1800s and since there was no known vaccine or antibiotic available to arrest the disease, “lungers” (as they were called) had little choice but to seek the dry climate and sunshine of Colorado (or other western states). So many “consumptives” migrated to Colorado that at its heyday, it is estimated tat one out of every three residents was there for their health. The first facility in Colorado for tubercular patients was built in Denver in 1860. Facilities in Colorado Springs and Boulder in the 1870s were next. [Source: “When Tuberculosis Helped Put Colorado in the Map” by Erin Blakemore.]

The writer of this letter signed it with the initials “E. J. S.” which a prior owner claims came from an estate of the Stevenson family but I have no other information regarding his identity. We learn that he had prior employment as a telegraph operator but he gives us no clue as to where he came from back East nor do we know who he wrote to. Clearly he was suffering from tuberculosis himself and his letter provides us with a humorous glimpse of some of the other inmates of the sanatorium. Many former Civil War soldiers wandered about the Western states in the 1870s seeking relief from the debilitating effects of the disease they contracted during the war.

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Colorado Springs, Colorado
February 12, 1879

I was disappointed again tonight in not hearing from you. I received two papers. I will make a draft for $50 tomorrow & have it discounted. Please honor it on presentation. I think very soon I shall go to Pueblo or Canon [City] and try to find something to do. I do not feel any too able but it will perhaps be as well for me. I can telegraph yet if nothing better offers. I feel almost discouraged not of getting well. That seems to be but a question of time. I will go to those places anyway and there will probably something turn up. I must say that I envy some of our chronic grumblers who have nothing to worry them but their physical ailments and it is a constant regret that I, when I had the opportunity, did not prepare myself for such an occurrence as this. Did you ever notice that we can look upon a fellow mortal afflicted with a disease likely to prove fatal must more complacently than we can if the disease is in our own bodies? We can see a funeral procession pass, count the carriages, notice the mourners in their carriages, and the coffin in the hearse without even a sigh. But make us an active participant and the scene changes.

Well! I suppose there is a time to weep and a time to make merry, and it all depends upon the circumstances that alters cases. Luck is against some of us and perhaps the sooner we are gone and forgotten the better. It will be for us “and the rest of mankind.” It is only a little numbness, a struggle once or twice for breath, that is so dreaded, but I presume this is not a pleasant subject.

The weather has been very fine for the last few days but tonight it is clouding up indicating a snow storm. There are a fresh lot of very bad consumptives again coming here. They have tarried in Egypt a little too long and I am afraid if we should go to the train to bid them goodbye and God speed when they go back, they will not answer us. It takes a good deal of gumption for a man to get his legs when his wind goes back on him.

There are some odd characters here. An old lady and her son George from Philadelphia rather lead the van for oddity. George is perhaps 22 or 3—a chronic smiler. “Lungs are not bad, oh no! Just a little throat difficulty.” But his countenance is of the pale pallor and his cough of the hollow holler. George considers himself a master as regards the female sex ansd is regarded by others as a very soft one. He hails his mother with “ma” which delights the boys. The old lady has been irreverently nicknamed “The photograph.” She has a slight lisp and never tires of relating the virtues of the aforesaid George. Her constant dread that his soft limbs may repose betwixt damp sheets and extols upon the excellency of the beef tea upon which she feeds him. It’s equal to turtle thoup or at betht to make turtle ith that beef tea.” It doesn’t sound well in a woman, big, fat and fifty to lisp, but maybe she can’t help it.

A little Jew tried to pass himself off as a gentile and succeeded admirably until five Jews—“commercial travelers”—came one day. One of the party knew him. He squirmed and wriggled but it was no use, the jig was up and he lost caste forthwith. Instead of Mr. Goodkind, it is now “the little Jew.”

There are quite a number of good fellows here too. They are sometimes a little odd but you put a rope around any man’s neck and pull a little and he would be a little given to oddity. They can’t help it.

An acquaintance of mine bought a half interest in the Pikes Peak Trail for one thousand dollars the other day. It is said to be a good piece of property, producing a revenue of 6, 8 or 10 dollars a day during the season.

We had an addition to our table in the shape of a Canadian Englishman. He said “by jouve.” They bounced him rather unceremoniously and he could not understand it by jouve. They are odd ducks and very disagreeable.

I have quit riding horseback for obvious reasons. It is not nearly so safe as walking on the ground and the walking is getting to be good again.

February 13. We have been enveloped in a cloud all the morning but it is now breaking away and we shall have a clear sunshiny day after all. I shall not go south for a few days. Think I can find something to do in New Mexico and may go there. It is a little rough there as yet but they will get over that in time. The climate is said to be excellent and the country fine. It is about to be opened up by a new railroad and there will probably be quite an emigration there in the course of three or four years. — E. J. S.