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May 4. 1873,
Dear Carrie,
All the other girls in our parlor have just finished their usual
Sunday work, but I must now begin. Not that I shall attempt any other
letter than this to you. One of my "non-writing" moods has taken possession of me, and I find it an absolute burden to put pan to paper.
These moods are periodical, and cause me groat disturbance as they
generally come at the very times that my essays are due, and many
letters unanswered.
Today has been quite spring like, tempting me to spend considerable
time outdoors. We went searching for birdsnests, and if the wickedness
of egg stealing had not been so thoroughly drilled into me in my younger
days, I muchly fear that many of those robins, now in an embryonic state,
would never see the light of this fair world. Such lovely little blue-green
eggs as we found, and such ugly little robins, hatched today, I should think. Jen and I went out this morning and found a good many wild flowers, the first that I have gathered this year, although
Have spent part of this day in reading "Peg Woffington," a lovely
little story of Reades. One would not suppose from reading his later
novels that so pure a story could have ever been written by him. Yet
still this bears some of his characteristics. Are you reading "Middle*
march"? Every one here speaks highly of it, and Mr. Brooks reckons
Its author in the same list with Dickens, Thackery, be. I am anxious
to read it, but fear my patience would be exhausted before wading through
the first dull pages.
R umor, today, told us that the son of Prof. Ortoa would be baptised
this morning, and this hope it was
be a great trial, and only you there to help her and attend to everything.
Hard as it was to have them so injured I cannot help rejoicing that it was
nothing worse.
It is almost tea-time so I must close now with heaps of love to all.
Julie