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6. with one of two of my song-efforts. To me the instance is not without its own little charm , -- to think that one so far away & amid such different scenes, should pen? a few lines to me; that the letters should come drifting or, changing hands here & there over its long, circuitous route until weary with its journeyings, like a tiny leaf, -- like a unclear? from over the sea, -- like a message from a far-off clime, it reaches at last its destination -- my hands.

Monday. Mar. 6th

To pen my Journal again this afternoon, not to write a usual paragraph, but to begin the following little sketch. I shall write if on it at my leisure; or as fact as the needed words are presented to me in a readable style. I give the sketch a short title, being

"Johnnie."

At the front door of a tenement building on a quiet street in the city of P----- , widow Marion & her son Johnnie are standing. The widow is somewhat advanced in years, but her son is a young man, stout and robust looking. It is a June morn-