17 April 1886

Mr Hunt was tinning a Post this Morning, and told us Libbie did'nt feel quite as well as usual and I hav'nt felt quite as well as usual since Chestnuts were ripe, though it was'nt the Chestnuts' fault, but the Crocuses are so martial and the Daffodils to the second Joint, let us join Hands and recover.

"I do remember an Apothecary," said that sweeter Robin than Shakespeare, was a loved paragraph which has lain on my Pillow all Winter, but perhaps Shakespeare has been "up street" oftener than I have, this Winter. Would Father's youngest Sister believe that in the "Shire Town," where he and Blackstone went to school, a man was hung in Northampton yesterday for the murder of a man by the name of Dickinson, and that Miss Harriet Merrill was poisoned by a strolling Juggler, and to be tried in the Supreme Court next week?

Dont you think Fumigation ceased when Father died? Poor, romantic Miss Merrill! But perhaps a Police Gazette was better for you than an Essay -

I hope you are both stronger, and ask a word of gain with these ecstatic Days. I give my anxious love, and Vinnie's faithfulness with mine.

Your Emily -