To Mrs. J.G. Holland
From ED

October 1881

We read the words but know them not. We are too frightened with sorrow. If that dear, tired one must sleep, could we not see him first?

Heaven is but a little way to one who gave it, here. "Inasmuch," to him, how tenderly fulfilled!

Our hearts have flown to you before - our breaking voices follow. How can we wait to take you all in our sheltering arms?

Could there be new tenderness, it would be for you, but the heart is full - another throb would split it - nor would we dare to speak to those whom such a grief removes, but we have somewhere heard "A little child shall lead them."

          Emily.