Wednesday Morning – – Spring!
February 26, 1845.
Real warm Spring, dear Miss Barrett, and the birds know it; and in Spring I shall see you, surely see you – – for when did I once fail to get whatever I had set my heart upon? As I ask myself sometimes, with a strange fear.
I took up this paper to write a great deal – – now, I don’t think I shall write much – – ‘I shall see you,’ I say!
That ‘Luria’ you enquire about, Continue reading “#9”