My darling mother,

I must not go to bed to night
without writing to thee after receiving such a letter
as I have to day from thee. I read every word
of it and they sank into my very heart. It is
little that my feeble pen can say in return for
such beautiful words, but thee must believe that
there is in my heart a gratitude and tenderness
which is unutterable. I am certain, dear Mother,
that Willie is ever with thee beside those sick beds.
Every day he seems nearer, his memory fresher.
In every good act of our lives, I am sure the first
thought with each & all of us is of him & his sympathy.
He is still the very spirit of Home. We
will ever think of him as such, all our lives.

Thy letter I shall always keep and prize. May
I very often read it and profit by its beautiful lesson.
What my gifts are which have so long slumbered,
I know not. I suppose there are few of us who make
the most of the talents given us; I would be
more glad than I can tell to make more of mine.

I would be more useful at home. All my
work seems away from you all, sometimes I feel
isolated. Away so much among others and at
home devoting so much time to myself. I want
to tell you what music is to me, but when I
try words fail me -- I cannot. It seems a very
part of me. Then Willie loved it so & was so
anxious for me to improve; it seems to belong to
him, I cannot help thinking of him in all my
labor.

Well, at the best I am blind, sometimes I
cannot even feel my way.

Dear, kind Uncle John is so true to us as if we
were his children. He never, for a moment, forgets
that we are brotherless. He gave Julia a birth-day
present yesterday & to day to me the same, $10.00.
It isn't the money, but his thoughtfulness. If
we could only repay him in any way but in
the most devoted love, I mean if we could give
him some proof of that love. But he knows,
he [underlined] must [/underlined].

It is late. I only meant to thank thee
for thy letter. That and Willie's birth day

letter are my jewels.

With all my love to thee and
to my dear sister,
thy daughter Lucy.

June 22nd/63

Miss Christine sends me this evening a
loving note with a very handsome copy of
Shakespeare in return for a bag I worked for
her. I send thee the last & prettiest of my
little pictures.