Mr. Abbot is here from Brunswick and will take a letter for me to any of my friends. I should not have been surprised any more to have seen the cupola of the college itself walk into the room than I was to see Mr. Abbot, I could hardly believe my eyes; but I could not but _know_ him, as I know nobody like him: he always seems like a frightened bird—so hurried in his manner and conversation. How much he looked like some of Timothy Dexter’s wooden men—at commencement last year; it came across my mind while he was sitting by me yesterday,—’twas well I was alone, or I should have certainly laughed. Frederic,[84] I suppose, is at home, tho’ Mr. A. could not tell me. John[85] and Charles King have some thought of going to Portland. I have told them they had better go some other time, as they will find Portland so dull and none of you in quite so good spirits. James is here and they return with him. You ask about Jane Watts—nobody sees her, she is entirely confined to her room. Doctor Burchea attends her now; her cough they think a little better, but she is not able to sleep at all without laudanum. I have no expectation she will recover, the family seem to have. As to news—New York is not so gay as last Winter, few balls but a great many tea-parties. I believe I told you Mrs. Gillespie[86] has a daughter, and still more news. You never wrote me anything about the muslin for Arixene to work her a frock, ’tis so good an opportunity to send it that I have a great mind to get it notwithstanding. If you can, send the things I left to Louisa Davis in Boston. John and Charles would bring them on to me. Walter[87] will want the shirts as soon as the weather becomes warm. You say I have said nothing of Walter in any of my letters; he is so hearty and well I hardly thought of him when I wrote; he has not had a day’s sickness since I returned. I send him out walking frequently when ’tis so cold it quite makes the tears come; he trudges along with leading very well in the street, he never takes cold. He goes to bed at 6 o’clock, away in the room in the third story you used to sleep in, without fire or candle, and there he sleeps till Phœbe goes to bed to him. You know I am a great enemy to letting children sleep with a fire in the room; ’tis the universal practice here, and as long as I can avoid it I never mean to practice it; it subjects them to constant colds. They think I am very severe to suffer such a child to be put in the third story to sleep without a fire. I presume Aunt King and family are all well; they are going to have a fine _waffle_ party on Tuesday. I wish you were here to go, for the boys want to have a fine frolic. Kitty Bayard[88] is to be married in April to Duncan Campbell; all engaged since Wolsey and Susan were married. Mary Watts[89] is engaged to the big Doctor Romaine,—that is quite a surprise to every one: this is rumor. And now I have written