Both the children send their love to you. And they mean just that.
St. Helena,
October 6,
1892.
My dear Blanche,
I send you by this mail the current New England Magazine—merely because I have it by me and have read all of it that I shall have leisure to read. Maybe it will entertain you for an idle hour.
I have so far recovered my health that I hope to do a little pot-boiling to-morrow. (Is that properly written with a hyphen?—for the life o' me I can't say, just at this moment. There is a story of an old actor who having played one part half his life had to cut out the name of the person he represented wherever it occurred in his lines: he could never remember which syllable to accent.) My illness was only asthma, which, unluckily, does not kill me and so should not alarm my friends.
Dr. Danziger writes that he has ordered your father's sketch sent me. And I've ordered a large number of extra impressions of it—if it is still on the stone. So you see I like it.
Let me hear from you and about you.
Sincerely your friend,
I enclose Bib.Ambrose Bierce.