The only news I know
Is bulletins all day
From Immortality.
Can you render my pencil? The physician has taken away my pen.
I inclose the address from a letter, lest my figures fail.
Knowledge of your recovery would excel my own.
E. Dickinson.
Later this arrived:—
Dear Friend,—I think of you so wholly that I cannot resist to write again, to ask if you are safe? Danger is not at first, for then we are unconscious, but in the after, slower days.