Now, you dear little human angel, I will see if I can’t write you a letter & still get to bed so early that you will say I have done well & you approve me. I am willing to acknowledge that I scribbled at you to a pretty late hour last night. It would be such a luxury if I hadn’t anything to do but write letters to you, Livy.

I had so much calculated upon talking business to Mr. Benedict of the Herald, this time, but it can’t be. He is lying very ill—dangerously so—& I must wait.1explanatory note It is aggravating & offensive that he should choose this particular time for getting ill, but it cannot be helped, & I must h Ⓐemendation not hold him to personal account for it. Still, I cannot but regard such conduct as those, as infamous. an outrage. He forgets that I am a stranger. I am at least entitled to common courtesy. {Now Livy, I can see your eyes growing larger & larger & the blood forsaking your cheeks, for you are taking all that literally & fancying I have become an absolute savage. No, I don’t see anything of the kind, dear—I only see you sorry that the unfortunate man is so ill, & hoping with your bravest hope that God will restore him—that is what I see.} in margin: Will you make my reverence to Mr. & Mrs. Langdon & g tender to them my love?

Your last Plymouth Pulpit arrived to-day, & I am saving it to read in bed, presently. But I could not resist the desire to be with you a moment—that is, to hunt out your pencil-marks & see where your dear hand had been. And I was so delighted to read your unconscious confession in the margin:!

“True—although I want you to know my faults, yet I should be pained if you proved & brought them to light. We want people to think better of us than we think of ourselves, & we feel touched & not humble when they dissect us & tell our faults.”2explanatory note

Come to my arms, Livy! for, bless your darling heart, you are human, after all! Oh, I am so glad you said that, Livy; for do you know I was so harassed & bewildered when you used to seem determined that I should discover a fault in you, while, upon the honor of a man I could not find one—& I couldn’t understand why you should require such a thing of me—& I sometimes said Surely this girl is deceiving herself—she don’t know what that this is a thing she could not like. But you were relentless—you drove me to it—& I remember how I lay for two long hours, one night, moving you under the microscope, & was absolutely delighted, at le Ⓐemendation last, when I thought I had discovered two grave faults—& I hastened to write you—& felt like an idiot the very nex within 24 hours when my cooler, uncrazed judgment tore those two prized faults to shreds & they vanished into thin air! And then I was distressed! I wondered how I was going to account to you for those miss Ⓐemendation boasted faults, missing already. But what inexpressible relief I fell felt Ⓐemendation when I seemed to see by your very next letter that you were about half mad & altogether as entirely astounded, that there was a fault discernible in you! Oh you innocent!—how I do love you, Livy!3explanatory note And Ⓐemendation the next letter after that, almost confirmed this happy seeming, & when I saw you last,4explanatory note a Ⓐemendation one of your earliest remarks did confirm it! I wanted to exult, but I didn’t dare to do it. You spoke of the faults, & said in the naivest way imaginable, “Father said he wondered where you found them!” Well, the man who could keep from loving you, Livy, would simply be more than human. And in my secret heart I wondered where I or any other man would look for a fault in the blemishless creation that was standing before me at that same moment. And I fee felt Ⓐemendation safe, safe & happy—for I it was revealed to me that you were human & belonged on this perishable earth like the rest of us; & so it was no profanity to love you & honor you, & live & labor for you, & be blessed & rewarded by you, & no wrong to be utterly unable to detect any sign or shadow of a fault in you with merely human eyes. Ah, Livy dear, I feel perfectly contented & happy, now—I do indeed—for you have shown just that human spirit trait which I did hope & believe was in you but which you never have betrayed into words before. And now I can love you & praise you as extravagantly as I please & you will have to bow your dear head meekly & take it, Livy. Just read the quoted passage again, you little persecutor of the faithful, & see if I haven’t good strong cause to feel thankful to you for writing it? Livy, it is the greatest consolation & the greatest comfort to me, to firmly & steadfastly believe that you have not your equal in the whole world, & now you will not go & take it away from me again, will you? Let me be as proud of you as I want to, Livy—I am sure I have reason enough. All my belief in you is honest, & so you know you ought not to try to mar it. Don’t try to impair my boundless faith in you, Livy—for I so prize it; it is of such Ⓐemendation inestimable value to me; it so lifts me up, so refines me, so weeds out my grossness, so stamps my aims with worthiness, so invests my ambitions with nobility. What shall our wedded life be, if I lose this, Livy? No—let it grow—let it grow—never diminish. Let us hope to say, all our days, to the end:

“Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And GROW!— forever & forever!”5explanatory note

So that at last, when our work is done, & the evening of life is closing around us, & we are folding our hands to rest, & all loved scenes & familiar sounds are fainting on our ears & fading on our vision, we may know & feel that when the morning breaks we shall take up the old f Ⓐemendation refrain in a Better Land & pulse its music in our hearts

“Forever and forever!”

Don’t let what I said about your spelling “scissors” disturb you, Livy.6explanatory note I never pay any attention to your spelling, but somehow you seem to think it is dreadful not to spell right. I keep thinking of what I said, & wishing I had not said it; though I know that coming from me you will know it was only loving badinage & never intended to carry a sting with it. If I thought I had grieved you in the least degree I would not forgive myself for it.

Twichell is wild with delight over the birth of his little girl, & has sent to me for congratulations. I have sent them, for I am glad, as long as he is so delighted. I must enclose a part of his letter & Mrs. Twichell’s—because, since you are held lovingly in their hearts & remembered in their prayers, you will not be indifferent to their happiness. I wrote them that I would send their letter to you, & that I knew you would help me hurrah for them. in margin: That “commercial” style”—I wrote T. once, that you never put any nonsense in your letters, but wrote with great gravity in a stately, smooth-flowing commercial style. 7explanatory note If I had the naming of that young screech-owl, Ⓐemendation (provided it is good & pretty,) I would name it after you, Livy. But if it isn’t good & pretty, it don’t deserve such honor. I don’t see what in the mischief anybody should be so glad over a baby for, but we must be glad, Livy, otherwise they will think we are hard-hearted Ⓐemendation people—& I guess we are not that, are we? in margin: I have fet felt Ⓐemendation rather better, to-day than I have for some little time.

Of course I had to write them about you—I couldn’t help it—& I tried to make it just as mild as possible, but the adjectives would leak out. And now, if I don’t tell you what I said, you will think it was something dreadful. But it wasn’t—this was all—or rather, nearly all:

“If you could only see her picture! It came last night. She sat five times for a ferrotype, & every picture was a slander; & at last she tried a porcelaintype—& when I opened its velvet case last night, lo! a messenger-angel out of Paradise was in it! I give you my word of honor that it is a very marvel of beauty—the expression is sweet, & patient, & so far-away & dreamy. And what respect, what reverent honor it compels! Any man’s unconscious impulse would be to bare his head in its presence. And if he hadn’t the impulse, I would give it him!.”

It is surely the loveliest picture in the world, Livy—& so I must thank you again. Oh, the mischief, And now, after all, it is one o’clock, & I have to get up & go to church in the morning. I must go to bed & read my Plymouth Church, now, & worship my picture. You must clear out to bed, too, Livy—it is time.

Don’t let anything that is in this wild letterspace extent offend you, Livy—I don’t mean to hurt you, & you know that. With a kiss & a grateful God bless you, darling,