7 May 1853

Dear Austin.

A week ago, we were all here - today we are not all here - yet the bee hums just as merrily, and all the busy things work on as if the same. They do not miss you, Child, but there is a humming bee whose song is not so merry, and there are busy ones who pause to drop a tear. Let us thank God, today, Austin, that we can love our friends, our brothers and our sisters, and weep when they are gone, and smile at their return. It is indeed a joy which we are blest to know. Today is very beautiful - just as bright, just as blue, just as green and as white, and as crimson, as the cherry trees full in bloom, and the half opening peach blossoms, and the grass just waving, and sky and hill and cloud, can make it, if they try. How I wish you were here, Austin - you thought last Saturday beautiful - yet to this golden day, 'twas but one single gem, to whole handfuls of jewels. You will ride today, I hope, or take a long walk somewhere, and recollect us all, Vinnie and me, and Susie and Father and mother and home. Yes, Austin, every one of us, for we all think of you, and bring you to recollection many times each day - not bring you to recollection, for we never put you away, but keep recollecting on. Was'nt you very tired when you got back to Cambridge? I thought you would be, you had so much to do, the morning you went away. I hope you do not cough mornings, as you did when you were at home. If you do, go and see that Apothecary who gave you something before, and get something to cure it. And Austin, dont you care about anything else that troubles you - It isn't anything - It is too slight, too small, to make you worry so - dont think any more about it. We all love you very much - wont you remember that when anything worries you, and you wont care then.

I dont feel as if you'd been here - the last time was so very short - how I wish today was last Saturday, and last Saturday was today, so we could see you. Shant you write us pretty son? We have looked for a note before. Susie and I walked together all last Tuesday evening, talking of you and the visit, and wishing you were here, and would not go away again. I love her more and more. She looks very lovely in colors - she dont wear mourning now.

You must think of us tonight, while Mr Dwight takes tea here, and we will think of you far away, down in Cambridge. Dont mind the law, Austin, if it is rather dry, dont mind the daily road, tho' it is rather dusty, but remember the brooks and the hills, and remember while you're but one, we are but four at home!

Emilie.

You must come home in the recess.