My Dear Friend, -- I send you this little poem with some fears that you will be disappointed therein. But it is on the whole the most likely to please of any that I could lay my hands on -- my MSS. being trusted to fortune like the Sybils leaves, & perhaps, like her's, rising in value to my mind as they decrease in number. You must tell me frankly how you like what I sent & what you should like better. Will you give me your address more particularly so that in case I have a package to send you I can forward it by express ?
With all truth & love
I remain your friend
J. R. L.
[This letter bears no date. The postmark reads "BOSTON, May 16."]
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