As Dean Swift says, “eyes with writing almost blind,” I commence a letter to you, near ten o’clock at night, after having written seven letters to go abroad by the Milo. I have been wishing to write to you all the week, but last Friday, in a snow storm, who should come to make me a visit, but Mrs. Cushing, who is always a welcome guest; she stayed until Tuesday; I could not leave her to write....
“Delightful praise, like summer rose, That brighter in the dew-drop glows.” They were sweet drops which flowed from the heart to the eyes both of your grandfather and grandmother, when I read to him the two letters you had transcribed to your uncle and to your father, in commendation of your brother. You could not have offered a sweeter incense to your grandfather; and flowing from the pen of...