Livy darling, I am just as sorry as I can be that Gen. Franklin did not drop me a line. I would have gone to the Soldiers’ S Home & talked to the men as long as they pleased—& would have been glad to do it. Pond thought of it, & spoke about it the evening before, & I said I would cheerfully go to the Home; but he took a sudden notion & left on an early train for Hamilton; & the usual law being in force (to answer no knocks on my door before noon,) nobody got in to tell me, if he left any instructions about going to the Home. However, it was a rainy day, & Cable said that probably nobody came for us—he heard of no one.

I froze to death all last night, & never once thought of Sam Dunham’s camel’s hair shirt—but I did think of it a couple of hours ago, & am very comfortable, now. I mean to lay it on the bed every night after this.

When we came to put out our washing yesterday in Cincin, Mr. K. piled out a whole trunkful—all saved up since we were on the road last. I called Pond’s attention to it, & he said he would not permit that; he would make K pay for that wash out of his own pocket. I speak but the truth when I say I like K better & better; but his closeness is a queer streak—the queerest he has got.

Ah, that Jean! & her “pollonaris.”

Ich liebe dich, liebe dich, liebe dich sehr.