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imported>Hblack4d (Created page with "Chicago Dec [28th? 18th?] 1865 No. 13 S Sangamon St My darling Cousin I have sat down with my lap full of papers, and from the depths of confusion fished up one little sheet...") |
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Chicago Dec | Chicago Dec 18th 1865 | ||
No. 13 S Sangamon St | No. 13 S Sangamon St | ||
My darling Cousin | My darling Cousin | ||
I have sat down with my lap full of papers, and from the depths of confusion fished up one little sheet, and read it over, till I have just one desire in my heart. I would I could take the sorrowful little writer on my lap and truly look into those eyes. it does seem to me I could banish the sadness. Cousin I really think dyspepsia is at the bottom of all your trouble. and certainly I can sympathize with you. Yesterday and day before I was entirely laid by with sickheadache. I couldn't read or pray, or give anything but a fragment of a thought. I could not have writen a letter that was understandable even to you. yet I know I loved you. I loved all my friends and | |||
I have sat down with my lap full of papers, and from the depths of confusion fished up one little sheet, and read it over, till I have just one desire in my heart. I would I could take the sorrowful little writer on my lap and truly look into those eyes. it does seem to me I could banish the sadness. Cousin I really think dyspepsia is at the bottom of all your trouble. and certainly I can sympathize with you. Yesterday and day before I was entirely laid by with | |||
Latest revision as of 18:19, 31 January 2021
Chicago Dec 18th 1865 No. 13 S Sangamon St
My darling Cousin
I have sat down with my lap full of papers, and from the depths of confusion fished up one little sheet, and read it over, till I have just one desire in my heart. I would I could take the sorrowful little writer on my lap and truly look into those eyes. it does seem to me I could banish the sadness. Cousin I really think dyspepsia is at the bottom of all your trouble. and certainly I can sympathize with you. Yesterday and day before I was entirely laid by with sickheadache. I couldn't read or pray, or give anything but a fragment of a thought. I could not have writen a letter that was understandable even to you. yet I know I loved you. I loved all my friends and