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(April 29, 1862)

although they are not quite so abusive as they used to be. And our own papers generally overshoot the solemn truth in their statement of facts and in their prognostications, so that between the two I hardly know what to think about affairs.

We are well- The Baby is weaned and is getting accustomed to her new style of living: she has six teeth and is active and strong. Emily is always contented; I hope that the London Surgeons, whom we expect to consult in about a month, will think that she may be allowed to get up; if so, and if she gets through the summer well, I hope she may do well and enjoy a reasonably good degree of health and strength. Nice, with its sunshine and its mild yet tonic air, has been a very great blessing to her.
 
I got a pleasant letter from Gorham, recently, and answered it. He writes very agreeably; his "little ready turn" appears to have come to him at last. I hear, through him, of Henry's having made an abolition speech at Byfield or Newburyport: I wish he would talk in the sense of the President's proposition rather, which seems to me to have been the right one, and to have "hit the right nail on the head", and I am glad it has been accepted by Congress.

I hope that Ma has perfectly recovered from her slight accident. [[right margin]] [[a line down left side of paragraph]] [[/right margin]] Please give our best love to her. John and Emily always, when they hear of my being about writing to her or to you, prepare some drawing to send you; this time John has drawn a bunch of flowers, but it is on too large a piece of paper. The children send their love and "many kisses". They can't read yet; there is no one like dear GrandMa for bringing children on in their books, it seems to me.

Give our love to Aunt Mary, too. How is she and where is she? And to Anne Maria and Emily and the boys in general. I never hear anything fo John; he might almost as well be in one of the oil