Untitled Page 22

before we better join them

I wrote you last Sunday
and after I had finished
my letter, I took another
sheet and wrote, "Are you
thinking of me my dear
Mrs Stanford? I see you, so
plainly sitting with the Sena-
tor, on the veranda, you
seem so happy, and con-
tented, and I am near
you, and see you." Even
the very shadows cast by
the vine leaves on the floor,
were you, there, then the last
Sunday morn of his life? And
did you speak of me? I wrote
the above but did not send
it, but I wonder now why every
thing was so vivid. Dear
Mrs Stanford, I telegraphed