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My Dear One How troubled do you think I was, and am, when the end of the week came and passed, and I got no letter from home. How I did want to hear from you all. How I conjured up visions of Wilder sick, or Mary sick, or Baby sick; Mother and Mettie? worn out tired and sick with taking care of sick children. However I take good heart of hope?. Probably you are all well and hearty, and needing me much less than I need you, or at least need to hear from you. And I shall doubt less hear sometime in due dream?. I have not failed to write you.