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Sept 8th/93

New York City.

June 25th 1893.

My dear Mrs. Stanford.

When I wrote
you last week about my
darling boy Franklin, contented
and happy at Palo Alto.
How little did I dream
you would be reading
that letter between tears.
Our Heavenly Father is good
and just but how poorly
are we equiped to bear
the burden he imposes.