Blackwell Family
Alice Stone Blackwell                     Kitty Barry                         1872OFFICE OF
The Woman's Journal
No. 3 TREMONT PLACE,
Boston, Jan. 28th 1872

Dear abused Betrothed
Your letter of Jan. 8th came 
yesterday.  It is certainly 
very hard none of the family 
should have written to you 
about the fire; but before this 
time you must have received the 
full, true, particular and minute 
account thereof, which I sent 
you from Somerville.  Never the 
less, your reproaches have touched 
my heart, and I mean to 
crowd into this letter every 
scrap of news I can rake up 
for the purpose. Firstly, in 
answer to your letter, with its 
various questions. It is not true 
that Aunt Ellen has adopted a 
boy; at least, we have not yet

[*collar and cuffs you sent me at Christmas. Tell Aunty 
I am much 
obliged to 
her for her 
letter (the one 
I just spoke 
of about 
lownecked
dresses, etc. 
and tell 
her I mean to 
answer it
if I have time. 
There is an ode to 
you in progress,*]
heard of any such insane performance. 
On the contrary, 
she has given over her female 
young one to Aunt Emily, finding 
it beyond her powers to take 
care of it.  I have not read 
"Through the looking glass," but 
mean to do so.  Almost all our 
books are saved except a few 
of my choicest, which I had 
a few days before stowed away 
in my den at the very top of 
the house for safe keeping.  
Some of those have been brought 
out in a half burnt condition, 
but it was extremely provoking.  
Some things, (not many) are supposed 
to have been stolen. As for Uncle 
George, I am thouroughly disgusted 
with him.  As if your "home" could 
be anywhere but in America!  
The news with regard to M. V. is 
truly villainous. We see by the 
newspaper that a great hotel, 250 
feet long, is being built at Oak Bluffs, 
and a "Vineyard Sound Railway" is

[*which you may expect to get sooner or later. Just now*]

the other side the water. What do 
you think of that? Mama talks 
about it a good deal, but I fear 
it wont come to pass.
     Yesterday a private letter from 
Papa to Grandma Stone, when 
I was expected shortly to make 
my appearance in this world 
of woe, lately was sent us, with 
a short note enclosed, saying 
"Picked up at the fire, and 
returned by a Friend. When I 
heard of it I say down on the 
floor in a corner and shreiked. 
The party or parties who picked 
it up had kept it over a 
month!
     Our correspondence has 
got very much mixed up, it 
seems to me.  I got letters from 
you and Aunt Elizabeth a few 
days ago, written near the middle 
of Dec. which had been ages in getting 
here. It had been sent to Harrison Sq. 
I am much obliged for the 

[*are just over and tomorrow I shall know my rank in the class. 
Goodbye. Thy Betrothed Bride.*]actually in Progress!! Isn't it
horrible? Now as to our plans.
Papa says his loss by the fire is
$2000; Mama thinks it will come
to more. Papa's pet plan, and
the one which I rather think will
get carried out, is to rebuild the
house, with improvements and
alterations, and live in it. The 
cost rather scares him though,
and both he and Mama groan
over the cost of things in general.
Mama, I think, would like best of 
the various plans that are talked
over, to sell the place as it is, take
lodgings in Boston, and there go on
editing the Journal. There is another
part to this plan, which
I hardly dare tell you, for fear
of raising your hopes without
cause; and that is, to have me 
leave off my school altogether,
and send me to England, to
rest my brains, promote my
growth, and see my relatives on

[*I am at a crisis of my fate, for our monthly examinations*]

OFFICE OF
The Woman's Journal,
No. 3 TREMONT PLACE,
Boston, March 3d 1872
Dear Robert
Your letter of Feb. 14th has
come. I am ready the jump 
out of my skin, were that
possible, at the idea of your
coming home again. I am sure
there is no hope of my crossing
the water now, for our
house is being built up very
fast, with a hideous French
roof, and we are to live in it.
I see by the papers that some
wild Irishman has tried
to assassinate the Queen, or
something of that nature.
I suppose you are all in a 
great state of excitement
about it. Will he be executed

[*creation. Don't be angry with me for writing such a
pack of
stuff;
consider my
approaching*]executed? 
     You seem not to have got 
the ode, though your letter is 
dated on the very day when I 
calculated you would receive it; 
Valentine's day. Don't open 
the enclosed to Aunt Elizabeth 
on peril of your life! 
The vengeance of the Pirates 
Bride shall be swift and 
terrific, if you dare to do so! 
I have been practicing the 
forging of the names of various 
of my relatives, and also begin 
to have roarings in my ears, and 
feel certain I am growing deaf. 
Sha'n't we be a pretty pair? 
There is very little news, except
that I feel certain I am 
destined for an early grave, and 
should have gone these before
if I had not been undecided 

what to die of, among so many 
queer feelings. As most of 
them are in the head, I rather 
incline to brain fever, either 
fatal as followed by idiocy. 
Pleasant programme, isn't it?  
Nevertheless it's one of my favorite 
bug bears. The most provoking 
thing is, that, being the image 
of health, and having very red 
cheeks ( probably produced by a 
tendency of blood to the head,) 
I get no sympathy whatsoever. 
Don't be alarmed at the thought 
that spring dandelions will 
probably blossom o'er the tomb 
of your Betrothed. I am merely 
in a dismal frame of mind

[*insanity, and the fact that there is really no news. Thy
Bride. (In the dumps.)*]produced partly by having made no
friends among the girls at
school, who flirt like sixty,
nearly all of them, and are not
my sort at all; wherefore I am
lonesome, and so lace my mind
with nervousness. I am conducting
our correspondence upon a 
new plan, writing promptly
whenever I get a letter from you,
and otherwise having no special
time for doing so. Therefore as you 
sow, so shall you reap, and if
you write lots of letters, you will
receive accordingly.
     Everyone is well but myself, who,
as I have said, feel myself
rapidly approaching dissolution. 
I want some leeches applied to
my head, but dont know where
to get any. I keep on going to school
of course, am at the head of my
cl[ass], and generally disgusted withMarch 16th 1872
Dear Robert
You are faithless! I detected
it in the tone of your last
letter! You are going to marry
Uncle George of John Bull!
But beware!! Didn't Lily
Rogers call herself your lover?
Out of sight is out of mind!
Even my affectionate Valentine
did not soften your strong
heart! Wretch!! Mind your
ways; or tremble!!
     That is scolding enough
for the present, and I will
try to give you the news.
Your last letter was full of
congratulations on my expected
arrival in England, but there
is really not the least prospect
of my crossing the water just
now, so you must come over
here and see me: I shall all
but jump out of my skin if
your cutlas blade, accompanied
of course by yourself, appears this side the sea.
Our house has been built up a good deal but the men
have been hindered a good deal by the cold weather
which prevents their working steadily. We are having
a fuss about a horse. We bought one which misbehaved,
ran away and endangered the lives of Mama and Mary,
and which we returned [?] to the owner, who is a 
stable keeper; and he agreed to give us another instead
of him. We tried several, and before we had decided
on one, the first horse died. Now the question is whether
at the time of his death the horse belonged to Papa,
who had returned him, but not decided on another
instead, and the keeper who had taken him back, 
and confessed that he should have felt himself at
liberty to sell him, yet maintains that he belon

to Papa. So there is a nice
mess. They have agreed to
refer it to two gentlemen,
one chosen by each.
     Papa expects to leave for
Santo Domingo in a few days,
leaving Mamma and myself
to edit the paper till his
return. 
     I have another foreign
correspondent now besides
yourself; Alice Earle now
staying in Brussels.
     Let me see; is there any
other news? Not much, I am 
afraid, for I meant to make
this a long letter; which
praiseworthy intention won't be
carried out, I expect. Maybe you
dont know that Aunt Emily's
baby is thought to look like
Grandma, and Aunt Marian
suspects that Grandma's spirit
has transmigrated into it. Didyou ever hear of such an absurd idea?
     I have appeared in a new character; that of a 
writer of moral essays; or rather a moral essay. A prize
of $5.00 being offered for the best composition, on kindness
to animals, I have tried for it, and produced a 
very unsatisfactory piece of idiocy, which has been 
handed in. I dont know yet whether I have got the
prize or not, but I fear my chance is small. 
     There is one piece of news though; perhaps
I have told you before; that is that Papa stole one of 
my poetical performances, and, ode to my kitten, and
printed it in the Womans Journal under the head
of Pussy Cats, with A.S.B. at the end. This is awful
paper to write upon but if you put white paper
underneath I guess you can read it. May 28th, 1872.
My positive dear, comparitive dearer, superlative dearest,
Betrothed;
I am delighted to be reconciled to you, and
if you were within reach a surgeon would be
needed to set your ribs, such a hug would you
receive.  May we never have another quarrel !
    Harry Spofford is living with us as
assistant chore boy, his parents thinking he needs
something to stop his violent headaches;
which he certainly does. When he gets one he
lies about in chairs with his eyes shut, looking
very limp and miserable. He has grown into
a big boy, is very much given to teasing, and
by no means the handsomest of his species.
     We are getting the garden into order at
the upper house, and Mama is very impatient
to move in; but as they have a very
slow and aggravating set of workmen, who
idle and cut capers instead of working, I
don't know how soon we shall be able to do
it. We have been having a time choosing
carpets. I have selected a dark red one for my

[*him; which I did. I got preciously teased at school, and was reported to the teacher as
having 
"Upped 
and kissed 
the minister".
Also I kissed 
another 
masculine 
individual,
(no relation) 
only a few 
years older 
than myself.
Wasn't that 
total depravity ? 
I enclose 
a note 
sent me by
one of my 
school mates, 
which I have 
answered 
with the
scorn it 
deserves, 
and told the insolent 
creature that
to slander a gallant 
rival was not the way*]room, and mean to have dark furniture and
white curtains like those in the front parlor
at Second Ave. Tomorrow we mean to choose
wall papers. I am in a state of great tribulation
just at present because our pretty little
Scotch girl, Annie McLeod, is going to leave us.
When I leave this letter I am going to cry about
it, but at present, as Harry and Frank and
Miss Tucker are here, I don't think it advisable.
I am sorry your eyes trouble you.
I have been having some bother with mine.
They smart, and I can't look a person in
the face without their watering, which is
embarrassing.
I don't hear much lately from the
N.Y. and Somerville people, so can't give
you much news from there; but Aunt Ellen
has adopted another baby - a girl - and means
to make the Rockaway place a great baby-
house. I should like to see that Rockaway 
place; you know I have never been there.
I don't wonder you were horrified by the 
fierceness of my portrait. You may lay it
down to your supposed desertion.

By the way, did you know your treasure
has been discovered hidden somewhere on the
N.J. coast? $30000. in very old gold coins, with
your name somewhere in the heap, in such
a way as to show that it belonged to you; at
least, that you had appropriated it. I fear
you could not prove your right to it, even
should you be able to prove your identity,
which is more doubtful still. Do you suppose
it would be worth while for me, as
your Bride and lawful heir, to lay claim
to it? I fear not.
When Mama was last at N.Y. she saw
the two babies. Constance (I wont consent to
call it Hannah; it is a detestable name, if it
was Grandma's) was singing like a little bird,
Mama says; suppose she should turn out a
second Nillson? Cornelia is as black as a 
mink, but very smart. I rather sympathise
with Cornelia, because everyone but Aunt Ellen
seems to like the other best. So in my natural
contrariness of disposition, I approve of the
little black beetle, though I have never seen it.
Florence is reported to be in a very dismal state.

[*to win my affections. Now Kitty, if you are not desperately jealous it shows
that you either have great confidence in my faithfulness, or that you*]of mind, because the family has moved up to the
mountain house again. She has not written to
me for a long time, but I mean to write and
stir her up.
     If you have Mrs. Brownings Poems,
look up the Rhyme of the Duchess May some
day. I like it very much, and am going to speak
the last part of it at school.
     We have bought a horse; a splendid
creature, who goes in a queer way that Papa
call ambling. Papa paid $400. for him, and 
is so nervous now lest his purchase should
turn out unsound, or come to grief in some way,
that it is really absurd. He was quite unhappy
because the harness rubbed the creature's hair
off in two places, and it sneezed twice. We
dont know what to name it; it has always
been called the bay horse by its owners. I
want to name him Du Guesclin, but Papa
objects.
     Wouln't you have been jealous
could you have seen me, not long ago, kissing
most heartily a masculine individual in the 
full presence of hundreds of people ? It was
Rovert Collyer. He came down to speak to Mama
after the sermon. I was introduced, and he bade me kiss

[*care very little about the matter one way or the other. Goodbye, my dear.
Alice S. Blackwell. P. S. We have heard nothing of the arrival
of Uncle G. Aunt M. speaks of coming around the way
before starting for England. A.*]


June 8th
Saturday. Was interrupted in the middle of
"The Cameron Pride" by Mama's suggesting with
a sweet smile that I should empty the
slops. I did it, barely refraining from an
explosion. I wish Mamma would get a 
girl; and I hate - oh! how I do hate that
amused pity and grinning "poor little mouse"
which one's elders sometimes inflict on one
when proposing something paticularly
unpleasant! I understand how Kitty
detested the "Poor little foal of an oppressed
race." Went over to Hattie Mann's
to darn stockings. Annie Phips was there
part of the time, but after she left I 
had some fun with Hattie. We took a 
walk after the mending, and she treated
me to a pickled lime. She scratched my 
initial on a tree and connected it with H. by
a true lover's knot, H. meaning Harry. I had
scratched it first with a K, and considered the
other an insult both to my Betrothed
Conjug and myself. They will prevent my

[*since been convinced that I only heard the beating of my heart. I hope your
eyes are better. I can sympathize with you more since mine have begun
to worry.
Aunt. M.
has
lots of
messages
for you.
Goodbye.
Thy affy
and faithful
Bride.*]
any fun with that boy if they don't stop
teasing me about him. Papa arrived with
Aunt M. who looked very nice with her
beautiful grey hair; and best of all,
Papa brought Capt. Kidd's diary! I
shrieked like a steam engine, and pressed
it to my palpitating buzzum.

There! that is written up to yesterday. I am
afraid you will be puffed up because of
the last part. Last night I dreamed that
Mama was defacing your diary, and groaned
so over it that Papa, who slept with me,
woke me up. Am I not a model Betrothed?
See that you are as faithful. I am staying
at home writing to you while Papa, Mama
and Aunt Marian are out riding.
Now, my dear Conjug, I am going to
tell you a great secret, which Papa and Mama
do not know. Don't let out. I have sent some
poetry (?) to the Young Folks, and it is accepted
and going to be printed, with my initials to it!!
That is a source of secret joy to my soul,
but I am very much bothered by our

housekeeper, Miss Tucker, who aggravates
me dreadfully, and Harry and I hate her
like poisin, but Mama likes her. She is so
fond of nagging, and is so very easily insulted,
that I, who as you know am prone to insult
my friends, hardly dare speak to her and
forty times a day inwardly vow that I never
will again. I hate stuck up people who are
always taking offence and innocent remarks!
The country is very green and pretty now.
The peace jubilee, to come off in a few
days, has so raised the prices of food that
Mama has expressed her intention of keeping
us on pork, salt fish and baked bean till
it is over. But Papa rebelled at the cod fish,
and says he shall go and visit Mr. Campbell
if we are going to treat him so. You will
find a lock of my hair in the parcel
with this, unless the custom house confiscates
it; and you ought to be grateful. Speaking
of the law, don't you think that the diary
and so forth, of such a noted outlaw as yourself
might be considered treasonable papers
for having which in my possession I mightbe hung like poor Major Andre? The log book
of such a famous pirate would certainly
be seized, and myself convicted of corresponding
with an immoral deperado.
I was going to speak the Rhyme of the
Duchess May at school - part of it, I mean -
but my courage has failed me and I have
given up the idea. I suppose I needn't
tell you about the babies, as you will
'pump' Aunt M. most unmercifully for
news of them and everyone else, and no
doubt get plenty. She [ga] can give you the
latest news of us, and has promised to write
me news of you. One of my chief amusements
is the invention of diseases for myself. There
is hardly a thing, from heart disease to insanity
and tubercles on the brain of which I have
not discovered the symptoms; and when I get
thouroughly wretched I unfold my budget
or worries to Mama, who laughs and argues
me out of them for the time being. I have been
troubled with a beating in my left ear, and supposed
I was dutifully imitating your windmill, and
saw in perspective a nose syringe such as used
to be applied to your magnet of destiny, but have

[*Alice to Kitty Barry*]
June 1872
Sunday, 2nd. Drove over to the South End, to
hear the Rev. Robert Collyer of Chicago, preach.
We got a very good seat in the front row,
where we heard every word, though when
he stood up I had to stretch my neck
to see more than his head. The text was
"Let your light shine," and the sermon
was very good. Just imagine, Kitty, 180
pounds of sunny benevolence and
cheery goodwill, with the pleasantest,
ruddiest, heartiest, jolliest good face
you ever saw, with a lot of gray hair on
top of it, and you will have some
idea of him. But his gestures were very
funny. He kept suddenly lifting up his
head as if he had heard or smelt something,
or had been spoken to while
woolgathering, and he swayed from
side to side, and flung his great self
around in the pulpit, really seeming
to have discovered the secret of perpetual
motion. When he got fairly intothe sermon he began to perspire, and
got red and excited, and once amused
me very much by leaning over the desk
and shaking his fist at the congregation.
I enjoyed it very much. He began life
as a blacksmith in Yorkshire, and is
an old friend of Mama's, and she told
me how in the great Chicago fire he saved
his little daughter's playthings at the
expense of all his books, and other things
about him. Papa and I drove home
through the beautiful weather with every
horse chestnut a mass of bloom, and
I feeling very virtuous; for hadn't I been
to church, and taken my testament, and
worn kid gloves ? As we drove down we
saw Harry Spofford writing a letter under
the apple trees, and enjoying rural felicity.
Drove to Squantum in the afternoon, and
in the evening Papa read the Antiquary
aloud.
June 3d Monday. A holiday. Went into Boston
and finally decided on the my carpet. It is
a beauty, but so costly that I feel rather

guilty for letting them buy it; especially
when Papa is spending so much money
on the place. Dined at Marston's restaurant,
and changed my Public Library
books. Selected 4 at the Atheneum, and
found, to my huge disgust, that no
more are to be taken out at present,
as the library is being re-arranged.
Drove home with Mama.
June 4th, Tuesday. School. Drawing lesson.
Base ball. Hattie *(Mann)* is monitor for the month.
I rank 6th, and I sit beside that detestable and
idiotic gander, Eddy Jenkins. Weeded the
strawberry bed with Harry in the afternoon.
I told him Annie (our girl) said he had a
fine voice and didn't tell him that I disagreed
with her. Of course he denied it,
but I saw him grin, and he sang and
whistled all the rest of the afternoon while
we weeded. I never saw a boy so fond of
music. He is crazy after the piano which
he has found out we own. Mrs. Campbell
came to make us a visit.
June 5th. Wednesday. A great storm; as usual in such weather I was seized with a Berserker
fit and walked over to Squantum, (two or three
miles and back) getting soaked. I had
to change every identical clo I had on; and
when Mama got home she gave me a lecture
and came down on Miss Tucker (the housekeeper)
and Mrs. Campbell for letting me
go. Mrs. Campbell scared me by hinting that
I should probably catch cold and die in
consequence of my performances, and I had
an imaginary lung fever on the spot; but
I still live.
June 6th. Thursday. Read The Woman in White
to Mrs. Campbell in the afternoon, till
my eyes gave out. A Ledger came and was
devoured.
June 7th Friday. Went into Boston and chose my
wall paper with Mama. A grammar examination
in the afternoon, and mine
all right but the possessive plural of son-
in law, which I wrote sons in law's, instead
of sons' in law. If ever you want a hard
grammatical nut to make any one crack,
Kitty, give them that.

Somerville, Dec. 27th 1872.
Dear Betrothed;
Of course you will
want to hear about
Christmas, so I will give
you a circumstantial
account. I started from
Boston on Monday, and
came down to N.Y. on
the cars alone. Aunt Ellen
had been sent to meet
me, and after giving me
up got into the very horsecar
in which I, having 
given her up, was proceeding
to Cooper Institute. 
On Tuesday Aunt Emily,
the Nurse, the two babies
and myself went out
to Somerville. I took charge
of Nina (I won't say
Cornelia - they call her

[*As soon as it breaks away enough I shall
doubtless
have a 
false*]Neeny, and it's only adding
an a-) part of the way,
and like her very much.
She is a plucky little
creature, and let herself
be hauled about upside
down or right side up,
just as it happened,
without the symptom
of a howl, and where
she could walk took
my hand and trotted
along stoutly, pushing at
a market basket that
stopped the way in a 
manner that delighted 
my soul. Uncle George
had told me most shocking
fibs about Nina, saying
that her hair grew down
to her eyebrows, and that
she formed the connecting
link between man and 

monkey, etc. all of which
I believed; and was
prepared for something
monstrous. Therefore I
was agreeably surprised
to see a merry looking
little brown baby, with
very fine black eyes, and
all the forehead she
needed. That atrocious
Uncle G.! Monkey, indeed!
I think she is prettier
than Nannie, between
you and me and the
post. She made friends
with me at once, and
several times insisted on
my sitting down in the
rocking chair and rocking
herself and Nannie,
one on each knee. 
But I shall never get to 
Christmas. At supper

[*half tooth screwed on, and if it doesn't show or 
feel, (it will probably do both) shall be happy.*]that evening, just as we
had all sat down and
uncle S. had begun to
carve, the ends of the
table began to slope down
toward the middle, and
the whole thing subsided
with a grand crash, an
upset of everything, and
a horrible mingling of
milk and kerosene in
the middle of the carpet.
Everyone jumped up in
terror; U. S. seized one
of the lamps from amid
the ruins, and frantically
blew it out; and supper
was indefinitely postponed.
The breaking of a joint
in the middle of the
table somewhere was the
cause of said tragedy; which
might have ended in

[cross-writing] I don't think of any other news, except 

It is good that Aunt
Elizabeth is so much
better. Please tell her her
letter came two or three
days too late which was
very provoking; but I
am nevertheless much
obliged, and the information
may be useful
hereafter.

I have got the lung
disease and am growing
deaf, following your example;
and worse still
am losing one of my
front teeth, greatly to my
own distress and that
of my relations. They
wont believe in my other
afflictions and to tell
you the truth, sometimes
I don't myself; but this
is my thorn in the flesh

[cross-writing]  I know I should have slaughtered worse than the breaking of lamp chimneys and crockery if we had not had non-explosive kerosene? 
Uncle G. and Aunt Ellen appeared about noon on Christmas and then we were let in to the tree, which was gorgeous. I got a big book about bugs from Aunt Emely and U.G; also a raffle, a silver fish, a drawing book, an orange, some candy, and from Florence a box of note paper and envelopes. Mamma gave me a sealed note to read on Christmas, saying what her presents and Papa's were, as of course I could not bring them with me.I am to have a scent bottle 
note paper and Encyclopaedias.  
Aunt Emily and
U.G. went home Christmas 
day, but Aunt
Ellen and the babies
stayed, and they house
is over-run with babies.
We all ate too much on
Christmas and were all
more or less sick and
stupid afterward.  The
Christmas pudding was
uncommonly nice, and 
had no lumps of suet
in it.  Just at present
we are all snowed up, 
and Aunty and the
babies cannot get away
as the railroad is doubtless 
drifted likewise.
It snowed all yesterday 
and the night

before, and the snow is
up to Uncle Sam's k[y]nees
on a level, for we
looked out of the
windo[y]w (I can't think
what makes me make
so many mistakes in
this letter) and saw him
ploughing through it.
Neither Papa nor Mamma
came to Christmas.  He
insisted that she should
go, and she that he
should, so they both
stayed at home.
Edie is going home
with me when I go, and
I think enjoys the prospect.  
I know I feel
quite dignified at the
idea of conducting and
directing that young lady
on a 250 odd miles journey.

[cross-writing]But I am sorry poor Mr. Greeley is dead.  Only
think if he had been elected, Gratz Brown
would be President now!  Goodbye Alice S. Blackwell
P.S. Florence was Greeley--no she says
she was half way between, which I
consider worse!  Excuse crossing.  A.]

the horrible fact that Uncle Sam voted
for Greeley!!!!   I expected Aunt Nettie got
him to.Dec. 31st 1872

Dear Kabby;

I am going home tomorrow
if roads permit. We
may be snowed up, as
the weather is threatening.
I performed the surprising
feat of going from
Roseville to Second Ave.
alone and unprotected.
I went to Roseville to see
the Hoopers, who have
moved, and live where
the white violet swamp 
used to be. Roseville is so
changed I hardly know
is. Another family has
our house, and I went
around by it in hopes of 
seeing Purr; but she was
not visible, and the eightof the old place only
made me feel like crying.
Dolly Bathgate is going to
be married to Gen. Van
Wagenon's brother or cousin, 
I don't know which, who 
is said to be a very good
fellow. Edie is going home
with me. I have questioned 
her as to what she thought
of while promenading the 
house at M. V. and she
professes her entire ignorance.
We are ver hungry and
longing for supper. No
particular news.