When much in the woods, as a little girl, I was told that the snake would bite me, that I might pick a poisonous flower, or goblins kidnap me; but I went along and met no one but angels, who were far shyer of me than I could be of them, so I haven’t that confidence in fraud which many exercise.
I shall observe your precept, though I don’t understand it, always.
I marked a line in one verse, because I met it after I made it, and never consciously touch a paint mixed by another person.
I do not let go it, because it is mine. Have you the portrait of Mrs. Browning?
Persons sent me three. If you had none, will you have mine?
Your Scholar.
A month or two after this I entered the volunteer army of the Civil War, and must have written to her during the winter of 1862-63 from South Carolina or Florida, for the following reached me in camp:—
Amherst.
Dear Friend,—I did not deem that planetary forces annulled, but suffered an exchange of territory, or world.
I should have liked to see you before you became improbable. War feels to me an oblique place. Should there be other summers, would you perhaps come?