So kind Mrs. Parsons stopped in the very midst of her pumpkin pies to
think of us? Seems to me I can see her bright, cheerful face now! And
then those well known handwritings! We _do_ love our Hartford
friends dearly; there can be, I think, no controverting that fact.
Kate says that the word _love_ is used in _six senses_, and
I am sure in some one of them they will all come in. Well, good-by for
the present.
Evening. Having finished the last hole on George's black vest, I stick
in my needle and sit down to be sociable. You don't know how coming
away from New England has sentimentalized us all! Never was there such
an abundance of meditation on our native land, on the joys of
friendship, the pains of separation. Catherine had an alarming
paroxysm in Philadelphia which expended itself in "The Emigrant's
Farewell." After this was sent off she felt considerably relieved. My
symptoms have been of a less acute kind, but, I fear, more enduring.
There! the tea-bell rings. Too bad! I was just going to say something
bright. Now to take your letter and run! How they will stare when I
produce it!
After tea. Well, we have had a fine time. When supper was about half
over, Catherine began: "We have a dessert that we have been saving all
the afternoon," and then I held up my letter. "See here, this is from
Hartford!" I wish you could have seen Aunt Esther's eyes brighten, and
mother's pale face all in a smile, and father, as I unfolded the
letter and began.
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