about 1878

Dear friend,

I fear you think your sweetness "feel among Thorns -" I have hoped for a moment in which to thank you, since your Parents returned - but have not obtained it, and must come with my Pencil - now - which will you forgive?

The Grapes were big and fresh, tasting like Emerald Dew - I know you picked them yourself!

How spacious must be the Heart that can include so many, and make no error of Love toward one - Thank you, dear, with Affection - and recall me to those closest to you - with sincerity -

Your beautiful Boy and Girls are part of the Summer's Picture, which is not yet mottled by the Snow. That no Flake of it fall on you or them - is a wish that would almost be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan -