To Joseph Sweetser
From ED

early summer 1858

Much has occurred, dear Uncle, since my writing you - so much - that I stagger as I write, in its sharp remembrance. Summers of bloom - and months of frost, and days of jingling bells, yet all the while this hand upon our fireside. Today has been so glad without, and yet so grieved within - so jolly, shone the sun - and now the moon comes stealing, and yet it makes none glad. I cannot always see the light - please tell me if it shines.

I hope you are well, these many days, and have much joy.

There is a smiling summer here, which causes birds to sing, and sets the bees in motion.

Strange blooms arise on many stalks, and trees receive their tenants.

I would you saw what I can see, and imbibed this music. The day went down, long time ago, and still a simple choir bear the canto on.

I dont know who it is, that sings, nor did I, would I tell!

God gives us many cups. Perhaps you will come to Amherst, before the wassail's done. Our man has mown today, and as he plied his scythe, I thought of other mowings, and garners far from here.

I wonder how long we shall wonder; how early we shall know.

Your brother kindly brought me a Tulip Tree this morning. A blossom from his tree.

I find them very thoughtful friends, and love them much. It seems very pleasant that other ones will so soon be near.

We formed Aunt Kate's acquaintance, for the first - last spring, and had a few sweet hours, as do new found girls.

I meet some octogenarians - but men and women seldomer, and at longer intervals - "little children," of whom is the "Kingdom of Heaven." How tiny some will have to grow, to gain admissoin there! I hardly know what I have said - my words put all their feathers on - and fluttered here and there. Please give my warmest love to my aunts and cousins - and write me, should you please, some summer's evening.

Affy,
Emilie.