... There is no need to tell me not to forget to miss you. I am sure I never missed any person more than I do you. I almost had it in my heart to wish that you may not succeed in London and that you then make a visit to Paris during the rest of the winter, and then go along the River Seine and come home in June. I feel almost wicked to make you homesick yet certainly I do feel provoked when you say that you are not so; for I am homesick for you. It is very strange how you have grown yourself into my heart. I never before have felt such strong attachment for a woman, that is, so “tenderly” strong. I have always appreciated and loved women more intellectually. But you are my child. And I am going to have the first grandbaby all to myself as my well-deserved property. You see, I am not so very selfish. I want you to enjoy all happiness that exists for us poor mortals--which is by no means in the single life. * * * * * _Roxbury, Attic Room, Southeast Corner, Sunday Night, 10:30._ I hope this is dated explanatorily enough to need no comments. But where under this wet heavens are you? We have plenty of water from above, have you still the same below you? I would almost envy you were I not so cosily covered. Henceforth, I fear we will have to pity you on Sundays in that pious England. I can appreciate your loneliness, for I often have a taste of it here on Sabbath evenings. For in spite of all the liberality of our inmates, we have to be stupid Sunday nights to please them, and I am always thankful when the day is over. Mr. Heinzen said to-day that I am a great talker, and he is not so very wrong, for it distresses me to see a whole company sitting together doing nothing, saying nothing, and thinking nothing, because it is Sunday and they can’t go to church, in order to hear nothing--but words and phrases. I often think I will make these latter myself, using innocent subjects for the sake of conversation. The presence of people disturbs me and prevents my thinking deeply, so I talk out what comes along. Have you ever found me so very talkative--unless I am with people who don’t interest me very much above a certain degree, say one above zero? I hope this letter and the one I wrote to Miss Morton will not be called belonging to this class. Still, I am writing to-night chiefly to let out some steam. Some people will not do this and therefore often burst when least desirable. ... My finger which became infected during the treatment of that little Mrs. ---- is now progressing so that I do not fear future trouble. It has been the most curious development of pathological changes that you can imagine. I am sorry that you could not watch nature in a small trouble and see her action in repairing damages.