< jl506.txt.1; letter >
You deserved a Tiding - before - dear - Your little punctualities are generous and precious. Vinnie rode last Twilight - with Austin and the Baby, but the latter cried for the Moon, which saddened their Trip. He is an ardent Jockey, for so old a man, and his piercing cries of "Go Cadgie," when they leave him behind, rend the neighborhood. There is circus here, and Farmers' Commencement, and Boys and Girls from Tripoli, and Governors and swords, parade the Summer Streets. They lean upon the Fence that guards the quiet Church Ground, and jar the Grass, now warm and soft as a Tropic Nest. Many people call, and wish for you with tears, and Vinnie beats her wings like a maddened Bird, whose Home has been invaded. So much has been Sorrow, that to fall asleep in Tennyson's Verse, seems almost a Pillow. "To where beyond these voices there is peace." I hope you are each safe. It is homeless without you, and we think of others possessing you with the throe of Othello. Mother gives her love - Maggie pleads her own. Austin smiles when you mention him. He told me that one of the fine Nights - the Tenants of your House sat in the Door together, and he remarked to Sue - "Those are [not] for whom I built that Parsonage." Daisies and Ferns are with us, and he whose Meadow they magnify, is always linked with you. Emily.