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It was more than kind of you not to let me know about this second operation5 until it was over and you
had recovered from it. Within the last few weeks I have lost two old and
dear friends; the fine Scotch doctor6
at Grand Manan7 whom the twins8 will remember with
affection, because he liked to play with them.
tThis summer was delighted to hear about Elizabeth's9
baby10. Died of his heart—ill 15 minutes only. I should
have to write a book to tell you what a fine man he was. And soon after I
arrived home my lawyer, John B. Nash11,
died suddenly. He has been my attorney ever since the early days on Bank Street12. My latest will
(which he made last February) will remain in the vaults of his firm, Breed,
Abbott & Morgan, 15 Broad Street; remember this. But I shall miss Mr.
Nash in every possible way. He was the kindest of friends and advisors.
I do not see, my dear, why a man so thin as you and not very athletic, should have a rupture. But maybe you were just too thin. I hope you were able to get through it with a local, and did not have a complete anaesthetic again; they do take it out of one so.
If anything were lacking to convince me of the charm of Elizabeth's baby, Virginia's13 letter would surely do the trick. I never personally heard such enthusiasm from Virginia on any subject. That baby seems to have made everybody happy.
I have spent several mornings lately looking into the matter of monuments for Father14 and Mother15, as I promised you. Harrison Granite Company and Vermont Marble Company, I find the best. I will send you definite information about my experiences with them very soon, and will send you photographs of the stones which seem to me the most appropriate and the most in accordance with Father's and Mother's taste.
I must thank you by pen for the splendid photograph—the first good picture of you I have ever seen. Edith16 and I both think it an unusually telling likeness, and my secretary, Miss Bloom17 admired it.
I am deeply touched that Meta18 thought the striped stockings worthy of such honor! It was very sweet of her.
I enclose a snap-shot19 which Isabelle20 carried about the world with her for years—how many? It was among her papers when she died21 in Sorrento22. Her husband23 sent it to me from Naples24, along with some six hundred letters which I had written her in the forty-odd years of our friendship, and every little printed scrap of mine, from the days when I wrote for one dollar a column.
You must send the picture back to me. But why were not you in it instead of old Ben Brown25!Lovingly W.