To Richard Gregory.--Little Grandson: When I
go into the garden in the morning to find you a nec-
tarine or tell you the names of flowers, Catalpa, Love-
lies-bleeding, Balsam, Phlox, you ask me why I
cannot stay but must go back to the house, and when
I say it is to write letters, you ask, "What for?"
And when winter comes, you will ask me why I must
go away over the sea instead of waiting for your
Christmas stocking and your tree.

The other day I was sitting outside the door, where
the sweet-peas grow, with an old man, and when you
came and called me he got up to go away, and as he
wished me good-bye, he said: "They were telling me
you are going to America, and says I, 'Whatever the
Lady does, I am certain she is doing nothing but

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