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LETTERS.
let the most affectionate interchange of sentiments fill up the aching void of disappointment. I almost dread that your plans will prove abortive—yet should the most unlucky turn send you home to us, convinced that a true friend is a treasure, I should not much mind having to struggle with the world again. Accuse me not of pride—yet sometimes, when nature has opened my heart to its author, I have wondered that you did not set a higher value on my heart.
Receive a kiss from , I was going to add, if you will not take one from me, and believe me yours
Sincerely
* * * *
The wind still continues in the same quarter.
LETTER
