TO: Louise and Frances Norcross
. . . Did the "stars differ" from each other in anything but "glory," there would be often envy.
The competitions of the sky. . . We asked Vinnie to say in the rear of one of her mental products that we had neuralgia, but evidently her theme of her time did not admit of trifles. . . . I forget no part of that sweet, smarting visit, nor even the nettles that stung my rose.
When Macbeth asked the physician what could be done for his wife, he made the mighty answer, "That sort must heal itself;" but, sister, that was guilt, and love, you know, is God, who certainly "gave the love to reward the love," even were there no Browning.
. . . The slips of the last rose of summer repose in kindred soil with waning bees for mates. How softly summer shuts, without the creaking of a door, abroad for evermore.
. . . Vinnie has also added a pilgrim kitten to her flock, which besides being jet black, is, I think, a lineal descendant of the "beautiful hearse horse" recommended to Austin.