Dear Mr Bowles.
It grieves us - that in near Northampton - we have now - no friend - and the old-foreigner-look blurs the Hills - that side - It will be bravest news - when our friend is well - tho' "Business" leaves but little place for the sweeter sort.
The hallowing - of pain - makes one afraid to convalesce - because they differ - wide - as Engines - and Madonnas. We trust no City give our friend - the "Helena" feeling.
The Cages - do not suit the Swiss - well as steeper Air.
I think the Father's Birds do not all carol at a time - to prove the cost of Music - not doubting at the last each Wren shall bear it's "Palm" -
To take the pearl - costs Breath - but then a pearl is not impeached - let it strike the East!
Dear Mr Bowles - We told you we did not learn to pray - but then our freckled bosom bears it's friends - in it's own way - to a simpler sky - and many's the time we leave their pain with the "Virgin Mary."
Jesus! they Crucifix
Enable thee to guess
The smaller size -
Jesus! thy second face
Mind thee - in Paradise -
Of Our's.
Emily.