To Mrs. J.G. Holland
Upon the presumption that the "Swallows homeward" flew, I address to their Nest, as formerly - I trust "the Airs were delicated" the Day they made their flight, and that they still sing Life's portentous Music - I feared you would steal the Grandchild in the Parents' absence, but then it would be such a happy theft, so joyful to the robbed, and to the Thief presiding. Could Jurisprudence sigh? I hope the Lass is hearty, loving and beloved - I know she is Grandmama's Tonic - but which is the biggest, the Patient or the Medicine? You always were a Wren, you know, the tenant of a Twig -
The Leaves are flying high away, and the Heart flies with them, though where that wondrous Firm alight, is not "an open secret -" What a curious Lie that phrase is! I see it of Politicans - Before I write to you again, we shall have had a new Czar - Is the Sister a Patriot?
"George Washington was the Father of his Country" - "George Who?"
That sums all Politics to me - but then I love the Drums, and they are busy now -
I did not forget the Anniversary you so tenderly marked, but cover it with Leaves, as it was long since covered with Honor - which is better than Leaves - To put one's Hand on the sacred figures, is like touching "the Ark of the Covenant -"
All grows strangely emphatic, and I think if I should see you again, I sh'd begin every sentence with "I say unto you -" The Bible ends with the Centre, not with the Circumference -