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Oct. 7, 1866.
My dearest Mother,
How do you do this beautiful Sunday morning? Father told us nothing about it when you were to have your eye doctored, so that I cant tell whether it is getting well, or you have it yet in anticipation. In either case I am very thankful that you have Aunt Mary with you, and I trust that she will stay with you all winter, especially if Father is to be gone this year. And, next you'll have Hattie there all the time. Isn't it gorgeous to contemplate. How much I would give to sit on your bed this morning and tell you every thing I have to say, instead of using this stupid pen. I have so many important items to communicate that I can hardly tell where to commence -