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to the letters you enclose with yours, however little I may care for them, it is a kind of satisfaction after all - tho the thought will come, that your dear hand enclosed them. I do not imagine, my dear Alice,that I am making love to you in that I have kissed affresh the blarney stone.. My love is already made, it is now a finished work to date with a satisfactory fullness about it far beyond expression. With it I am content - even should I die before another day. It is lasting as ((unclear)) and it must be of Heaven a part - where no doubt it will be recorded. It is and will be always the same ((unclear)) circumstances may