To Mrs. J.G. Holland
From ED

Philadelphia, 18 March 1855

Dear Mrs. Holland and Minnie, and Dr. Holland too - I have stolen away from company to write a note to you; and to say that I love you still.

I am not at home - I have been away just five weeks today, and shall not go quite yet back toMassachusetts. Vinnie is with me here, and we have wandered together into many new ways.

We were three weeks in Washington, while father was there, and have been two in Philadelphia. We have had many pleasant times, and seen much that is fair, and heard much that is wonderful - many sweet ladies and noble gentlemen have taken us by the hand and smiled upon us pleasantly - an the sun shines brighter for our way thus far.

I will not tell you what I saw - the elegance, the grandeur; you will not care to know the value of the diamonds my Lord and Lady wore, but if you haven't been to the sweet Mount Vernon,then I will tell you how on one soft spring day we glided down the Potomac in a painted boat, and jumped upon the shore - how hand in hand we stole along up a tangled pathway till wereached the tomb of General George Washington, how we paused beside it, and no one spoke aword, then hand in hand, walked on again, not less wise or sad for that marble story; how we went within the door - raised the latch he lifted when he last went home - thank the Ones in Lightthat he's since passed in through a brighter wicket! Oh, I could spend a long day, if it did not weary you, telling of Mount Vernon - and I will sometime if we live and meet again, and God grant we shall!

I wonder if you have all forgotten us, we have stayed away so long. I hope you haven't - I tried to write so hard before I went from home, but the moments were so busy, and then they flewso. I was sure when days did come in which I was less busy, I should seek your forgiveness, and it did not occur to me that you might not forgive me. Am I too late today? Even if you are angry, I shall keep praying you, till from very weariness, you will take me in. It seems tome many a day since we were in Springfield, and Minnie and the dumb-bells seem as vague - as vague; and sometimes I wonder if I ever dreamed - then if I'm dreaming now, then if I always dreamed, and there is not a world, and not these darling friends, for whom I would not count my life too great a sacrifice. Thank God there is a world, and that the friends we loved well forever and ever in a house above. I fear I grow incongruous, but to meet my friends does delight me so that I quite forget time and sense and so forth.

Now, my precious friends, if you won't forget me until I get home, and become more sensible, I will write again, and more properly. Why didn't I ask before, if you were well and happy?

Forgetful
Emilie.