Livy darling, I’m clear behind!—S with letters, I mean. Such slathers of ancient friends, & such worlds of talk, & such deep enjoyment of it! No time to turn around, for 2 or three days, now,—no chance to even drop a line to say, I love you, sweetheartⒶemendation! But wait—give me a chance—I will make it up. It is long past midnight. A beautifulⒶemendation evening with ma—& she is her old beautiful self; a nature of pure gold—one of the purest & finest & highest this land has produced. The unconsciously pathetic is her talent—& how richly she is endowed with it—& how naturally eloquent she is when it is to the fore! What books she could have written!—& now the world has lost them.

This visit to Hannibal—you can never imagine ◊◊◊ the infinite great deeps of pathos that have rolled their tides over me. I shall never see another such day. I have carried my heart in my mouth for twenty-four hours. And at the last moment came Tom Nash—cradle-mate, baby-mate, little-boy mate—deaf & dumb, now, for near 40 years, & nobody suspecting the deep & fine nature hidden behind his sealed lips—& hands me this letter, & wrings my hand, & gives me a devouring look or two, & walks shyly away. I kept it, & read it half an hour ago—& of course, although it was past midnight & I had not written to you yet, I sat down at once & answered it.

Goodbye, my darling—I love you, best of all; & those dear children next; & very, very soon, I am going to answer that precious Jean’s letter & tell her about the wonderful bear I saw to-day.