A remarkable letter written by Matilda Snyder*, confronting a man who had been saying mean things since discovering her in need of a bath—a perfectly human situation which she refuses to be shamed for. She calls him to account in a way that is profoundly assertive and self-aware, and in leveraging the classic “thought you were more of a man” diss, she defines a “real man” as someone who would not speak poorly of her. Even allowing for errors in transcription—a few words are tentative, complicated by legibility and syntax—the intent of her letter is clear. The mechanical deficiencies in her writing may even attest to her freedom to so brazenly address the recipient, unrepressed by the kind of etiquette imposed upon traditionally educated young women that would render her confrontation unthinkable by societal norms.

* Indeed, a phenomenal, cheer-inducing letter—but, a search for our protagonists quickly returns a story in the Tyrone Daily Herald (the town where this letter was postmarked) about the disappearance of Matilda Snyder around 1869 (around when it was sent)—and the arrest of Hugh Smith for her murder, 28 years later. Printed on March 9, 1897: “Hugh Smith, aged 75 years was locked up in the Perry county jail late Saturday night on the charge of murdering a young girl 28 years ago. Smith’s home is in Madison township, this county, and the girl he is alleged to have killed was named Matilda Snyder. She was aged 18 years, and lived close to Smith. The girl disappeared about 28 years ago, and no traces of her were ever found. No suspicion was ever attached to Smith until recently, when it is said that some trouble arose between him and the man who assisted him in disposing of the body. It is alleged that after the murder the girl’s body was cut into small pieces. These were carried to a sawmill in the vicinity on the same night, after which the building was set on fire and all traces of the crime removed.”

The story was picked up in newspapers from Philadelphia to Seattle with grossly inconsistent details. The range of discrepancies, from locations to names, make it doubtful that these are the same players. Most papers cite the crime occurring in Perry County, one county over from Blair; some say the girl’s name was “Malinda” Snyder, known as “Crazy Lindy,” a “Demented Female Mute” of “feeble mind” who wandered over to her neighbor Smith’s farm too frequently, annoyed him, and paid a price. The story was clearly sensationalized and embellished beyond much chance of figuring out what actually happened. While these may not be the Matilda/Melinda and Adolphus H./Hugh from the papers,  an uncomfortable thought persists that if our Matilda Snyder, who could not address her own envelope, had been murdered by Smith, it could have been because of her letter—because she dared to question his manhood—and we would be saddened, but not especially surprised, if that had been the case.