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Wica?. Jan. 4, 1855. Cynthia, do you not remember that I said I almost always wrote when alone? It is a dark, scaring night, and I am lonely enough for almost any- thing so I will strive to feel? to fight the unclear of sadness and fear; which stand around, by the magic here. It is a pleasant, though unclear unclear thought, that when we write; our spirits hold communion?; that they are not like our unclear bodies. unclear - unclear by the long miles that separate us. At least, I am sure that my thoughts are now with you in our "old house at home I seem to see you all so happy?. I see mother's pleasant smile and her shake of the head as a bust? of laughter