. Roswell and Etta went East the 9th of
September, and were gone fifteen days; they visited Amherst, Boston,
New York, Greenfield, Brattleboro, and Newfane. Roswell regretted
not knowing your whereabouts, for he wanted to have you along for a
sentimental journey in Vermont. Etta is now with us. She returns to
Kansas City next Sunday night. I am pained to hear of Dr. Johnson's
illness; pray, give him my love and tell him that he ought to be
less frisky if he hopes to keep his limbs sound. I am not surprised
that you have got to go South. And I am glad of it. Yes, I am glad
to know that you will get away from business and that implacable
crowd who are constantly trying to bleed you of money. I want to see
you enjoying life as far as you can, and I want to see _you_ getting
actual benefit from the money which you have earned by your many
years of conscientious industry. To me there is no other spectacle
in the world so humiliating as that of people laying themselves out
to extort money from others. Do tear yourself away from the sponges.
You and Miss Eva ought to have a quiet winter in a congenial
climate. I hope you will go to Florida, and, after doing
Jacksonville and St. Augustine, why not rent a little furnished
cottage and keep house for the winter? Along in February I will run
down and make you a visit. Now, think this over, and let me know
what you think of it. Mr. Gray, there is no need of there being any
sentimentality between us; there never has been. Yet there is every
reason why the bond of affection should be a very strong one. My
father and you were associates many years, and at his death he very
wisely constituted you the guardian (to a great extent) of his two
boys. I feel that you have more than executed his wishes; I feel
that you have fulfilled those hopes which he surely had that you
would be a kind of second father to us, counselling us prudently and
succoring us in a timely and generous manner, for which we--for I
speak for us both--are deeply, affectionately grateful. It would
please me so very much to have you promise me that if ever you are
ill or if ever you feel that my presence would relieve your
loneliness you will apprise me and let me come to you. If I could
afford to do so, I would cheerfully abandon my daily work and go to
live with you, doing such purely literary work as delights me; that
would, indeed, be very pleasant