I am going to give Molly, for a wedding present, the portrait of our grandmother by Jouett. It is a valuable painting, so I am told, but I have had it in the attic for years as I could not bear the sight of it. You will remember it was the image of that impertinent Sally Bolling, who seemed to have the faculty of making me appear ridiculous. I never could abide her and hardly wanted to have her picture in my drawing room. I always lost sight of the fact that it was really our grandmother. I am afraid Molly is going to look like it, too.
It is high time you were coming home. Now that you have managed to marry Molly off, I should think you would have some feeling for me. My health is very poor, and certainly your duty is to look after me some and not give all of your time to your children. What with the lawsuit that I have been forced into and the constant changing of house-servants, I am in a very nervous condition.
Affectionately your sister,
Sarah Carmichael Clay.
From Professor Edwin Green to Dr. McLean at Wellington.
My dear Doctor:
I have come to the conclusion that you can take a place by the side of Dr. Weir Mitchell as one of the greatest nerve specialists of this age or any age. I am taking your prescription in large doses: deep full breaths of happiness and great brimming bowls of it. I am feeling fine and my wife says I am getting fat.
We have had a splendid trip. I have been over the same ground before, but it all seems new and wonderful to me. My wife's knowledge of your beloved Scotland put me to shame. She declares she got it all from Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson and never studied a history of the country in her life.
My wife joins me in love to you and Mrs. McLean. She says that one of her chief pleasures is looking forward to having Mrs. McLean for a neighbor the rest of her life.