The will is always near, dear, though the feet vary. The terror of the winter has made a little creature of me, who thought myself so bold.
Father was very sick. I presumed he would die, and the sight of his lonesome face all day was harder than personal trouble. He is growing better, though physically reluctantly. I hope I am mistaken, but I think his physical life don't want to live any longer. You know he never played, and the straightest engine has its leaning hour. Vinnie was not here. Now we will turn the corner. All this while I was with you all, much of every hour, wishing we were near enough to assist each other. Would you have felt more at home, to know we were both in extremity? That would be my only regret that I had not told to you.
As regards the "pine" and the "jay," it is a long tryst, but I think they are able. I have spoken with them.
Of the "thorn," dear, give it to me, for I am strongest. Never carry what I can carry, for though I think I bend, something straightens me. Go to the "wine-press," dear, and come back and say has the number altered. I descry but one. What I would, I cannot say in so small a place.
Interview is acres, while the broadest letter feels a bandaged place. . . .
Tell Fanny we hold her tight. Tell Loo love is oldest and takes care of us, though just now in a piercing place.