8 May 1882
Monday -

Dear Abby -

This was all the Letter we had this Morning - Was it not enough? Oh no - a tiding every Hour would not be enough - I hoped to hear nothing yesterday unless it were through you -

The last we knew was Hope, and that would last till Monday, but Austin brought a Morning Paper as soon as I was down - "I hope there'll be something of Mr Lord - I'll look it over here," he said - "Couldn't I find it quicker," I inquired timidly - Searching and finding nothing he handed the Paper to me - I found nothing, also - and felt relieved and disturbed too - Then I knew I should hear Monday, but Morning brought me nothing but just this little general Note to a listening World - Were our sweet Salem safe, it would be "May" indeed - I shall never forget "May Day."

All our flowers were draped -

Is he able to speak or to hear voices or to say "Come in," when his Amherst knocks?

Fill his Hand with Love as sweet as Orchard Blossoms, which he will share with each of you - I know his boundless ways -

As it was too much sorrow, so it is almost too much joy -

Lovingly,

Emily.