January 1882

Dear Friend,

The Gray Afternoon --the sweet knock, and the ebbing voice of the Boys are a pictorial Memory -- and then the Little Bins and the Purple Kernels -- t'was like the Larder of a Doll --

To the inditing Heart we wish no sigh had come --

Sweet Pirate of the Heart,
Not Pirate of the Sea,
What wrecketh thee?
Some Spice's Mutiny --
Some Attar's perfidy>
Confide in me.

Emily.