Vinnie was "gone" indeed and is due to-day, and before the tumult that even the best bring we will take hold of hands. It was sweet and antique as birds to hear Loo's voice, worth the lying awake from five o'clock summer mornings to hear. I rejoice that my wren can rise and touch the sky again. We all have moments with the dust, but the dew is given. Do you wish you heard "A[ustin] talk"? Then I would you did, for then you would be here always, a sweet premium. Would you like to "step in the kitchen"? Then you shall by faith, which is the first sight. Mr. C[hurch] is not in the tree, because the rooks won't let him, but I ate a pear as pink as a plum that he made last spring, when he was ogling you. Mother has on the petticoat you so gallantly gathered while he sighed and grafted.
Tabby is eating a stone dinner from a stone plate, . . . Tim is washing Dick's feet, and talking to him now and then in an intimate way. Poor fellow, how he warmed when I gave him your message! The red reached clear to his beard, he was so gratified; and Maggie stood as still for hers as a puss for patting. The hearts of these poor people lie so unconcealed you bare them with a smile.
Thank you for recollecting my weakness. I am not so well as to forget I was ever ill, but better working. I suppose we must all "ail till evening."
Read Mr. Lowell's Winter. One does not often meet anything so perfect.
In many little corners how much of Loo I have.
Maggie "dragged" the garden for this bud for you. You have heard of the "last rose of summer." This is that rose's son.
Into the little port you cannot sail unwelcome at any hour of day or night. Love for Fanny, and stay close to