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Dear friend

I am still here—Your kind letter & the papers arrived at noon to-day—Thanks—They are the first visitations of the sort from the outside world for a week—

Sunday Mr S[tafford] and I took a long ride (did I tell you before)—Tuesday another, this time to a farm-auction, where all the neighbors were gathered, 100 or more—quite a scene, and a real study of character, looks & manners here—I scanned it all well, (& was doubtless scanned in return)—Mr S was to go up last night with a load of straw for market, but it rained furiously, & he did not go—Rain all day till middle of this afternoon, since which we have had a glorious four hours, grand rainbow & gorgeous sunset—but now, as I write, (8½) it looks like rain again—I still keep well—appetite any how quite magnificent—At least two hours forenoon, & two afternoon, down by the creek—Passed between sauntering—the hickory saplings—& "Honor is the subject of my story"—(for explanation of the last three lines, ask Herby—)

I am glad Bee gets on so well (but I expected it) & my prayers might go up, (if it were not for Tyndal) not only toward the success of the second negative, but for you & Giddy in that ("up to your ears" of) needle-work—I shall be up before many days—May be soon—at any rate I think I shall take supper with you by next Tuesday—

W W