It I have been writing letters to all my a number of my friends, my darling Livy, but it is not near daylight yet, & so I can’t resist the temptation to write a line to you before I go to bed. I do it only for the pleasure of talking to you, for I haven’t really anything to write—nothing at all except that I love you, Livy—I love you more than I can tell. And now is the time to love—for on this day the Savior was born, whose measureless love unbarred the gates of Heaven to perishing men. All this long night my thoughts have somehow wandered to that subject—all the night long my memory has been drifting back to Bethlehem, & more & more vividly the reality of what occurred there so many ages ago has seemed to dawn upon me—until now, even I can half comprehend the grandeur of the old first Christmas night.

I wish you a glad Christmas—a painless Christmas—a Christmas of rest, & peace, & thanksgiving, Livy, dear. O, crowned & sceptred queen of my true heart! I must get a little magniloquent in speech every time I think of you, Livy—I can’t help it. For—I—love you. Never mind the foolishness of it, I love you—& I wish I were near enough to touch your dear forehead with the benediction of a kiss, this Christmas morning.

I have n’t received any letter from you, to-day, but maybe I may to-morrow. IⒶemendation am full of hope that you have written, though I know that many things can & do occur to delay & prevent your writing. I shall hear from you at Charlotte, sure. And maybe at Tecumseh—& certainly at Cleveland.—send several letters to Cleveland, Livy, be sure & do that. And send the picture—I am just in a fidget to see it. You dear You little humbug, you went out for Miss Hooker’s basket, & I really suppose you never went near the daguerrean rooms. O, Livy, why will you beⒶemendation guilty of such conduct as those? But you may consider that I don’t call you a little humbugⒶemendation at all, if you will only send the picture. Please, Livy.

This isn’t a letter, Livy—I have already written up everything I knew, tonight, long ago—& so I am simply scribbling Ⓐemendationthis merely to be communing with you & putting my arm about you, as it were, & looking into your eyes. Forgive.

I must to bed. I ride 20 miles in a cutter to-day, & lecture tonight at Charlotte. Good-bye, & happy dreams, my peerless Livy. I am obeying all your orders strictly, except not in the matter of sitting up late—that one I do overstepⒶemendation just a mere trifle, but nothing to signify.