To Mrs. J.G. Holland
I think everything will get ripe today so it can be Autumn tomorrow if it would like, for such heat was never present and I think of your Forest and Sea as a far off Sherbert.
We have an artificial Sea, and to see the Birds follow the Hose for a Crumb of Water is a touching Sight. they wont take it if I hand it to them - they run and shriek as if they were being assassinated, but oh, to steal it, that is bliss - I cant say that their views are not current.
When I look in the Morning Paper to see how the President is, I know you are looking too, and for once in the Day I am sure where you are, which is very friendly.
The Pilgrim's Empire seems to stoop - I hope it will not fall -
We have a new Black Man and are looking for a Philanthropist to direct him, because every time he presents himself, I run, and when the Head of the Nation shies, it confuses the Foot -
When you read in the "Massachusetts items" that he has eaten us up, a memorial merriment will invest these preliminaries.
Who wrote Mr Howells' story? Certainly he did not. Shakespeare was never accused of writing Bacon's works, though to have been suspected of writing his, was the most beautiful stigma of Bacon's Life - Higher, is the doom of the High.
Doctor's betrothal to "Blanco" I trust you bear unmurmuringly. Mother and Vinnie wept - I read it to both at their request -
Thank you for surviving the duplicity - Thank you for not stopping being anxious about us. Not to outgrow Suspense, is beloved indeed.