The following letter to my mother explains itself.
San Francisco, January 20, 1862.
My Dear Mrs. Howe,—How I long to get back into civilization,—where they speak the English language, raise regiments for the war, and write about Lyons looms.[[5]]
Do you know why I have the impudence to write to you? Simply for your card photograph and the Doctor’s and your autograph under a copy of the “Weave no more silks.”[[5]]
You see how modest my requests are. That quality is a grace that thrives in California air.
You ought not to refuse. I am a missionary and should be encouraged by all good Christians.... You are patriotic. I read your glorious verses to a crowded house in San Francisco at a festival for Volunteers, and the spirit so upheld the reading that the audience were thrilled....
Do be gracious!...
Love to everybody and to you, if you send the cards, etc.; if not, not.
Conditionally your friend,
Unconditionally your admirer,