clasp two inches long, and one and a half broad.... Oculist said weakness was the disease, and rest the remedy-oculist recommended veratrine ointment, frequent refreshing of eyes with wet cloth, cleared his throat every minute, and was an old humbug. They are playing at the Boston Museum a piece, probably a farce, called “A blighted being.” When I see the handbills posted up in the streets it is like reading one's own name. I must now bid you farewell and am ever with dearest love,
Your affectionate sister and A blighted being!
To the same
South Boston, June 1, 1855.... Well, my darling, it is a very uninteresting time with me. I am alive, and so are my five children. I made a vow, when dear Laura was so ill, to complain never more of dulness or ennui. So I won't, but you understand if I had n't made such a vow, I could under present circumstances indulge in the howling in which my soul delighteth. I don't know how I keep alive. The five children seem always waiting, morally, to pick my bones, and are always quarrelling over their savage feast.... The stairs as aforesaid kill me. The Baby keeps me awake, and keeps me down in strength. Were it not for beer, I were little better than a dead woman, but, blessed be the infusion of hops, I can still wink my left eye and look knowing with my right, which is more, God be praised, than could have been