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4305 - Sunday morn - 
October 28th [1888:]

It seems a long while, Leilie dear, since I sat down deliberately, in an arm chair & with a big tablet, to write to you leisurely. There has been no let up in the pressure of any regular routine, for months, until today, which is so damp & lowering that I know my father won't go out, & so I stay at home, - & having '[[?doummed]]' until satisfied, 'scribbling' is the next thing that comes natural. No letter from you this week, to anybody. We suppose you have started on your Stalian trip, but have rather given up supposing about you because we have made such very bad failures of late, owing to your failures to run your affairs on the schedule you had given us. There we had you at Lucerne over Sunday, - Ho! our next news shows you still at Concarneau! unable to tear yourselves away from the exclusive possession of all those men, now that the other girls have gone. I left them unprotected & you in full sway.  Why don't you ever tell us about Benjamin? We know nothing but her name, & we want to know her 'home', & her kin, & her cronies, & her age, & her  charackter, & her means, & her looks, & all about her, - & why you call her Benjn. Does she devour prey in the morning? Does she divide spoil in the evening? Has she five changes of raincoat? or a silver [[?]]?