has a funeral this
afternoon, that of Mrs. H., a lady whom he has visited for two years,
and a part, if not all, of that time once a week. I have made several
calls since I wrote you last--two of them to see babies, one of whom
took the shine quite off of mine with his great blue-black eyes and
eyelashes that lay halfway down his cheeks.

The latter part of April she visited Portland; while there she wrote to
her husband, April 27:

Just as I had the baby to sleep and this letter dated, I was called down
to see Dr. and Mrs. Dwight and their little Willie. The baby woke before
they had finished their call, and behaved as prettily and looked as
bright and lovely as heart could wish. Dr. Dwight held her a long time
and kissed her heartily. [2] I got your letter soon after dinner, and
from the haste and the _je ne sais quoi_ with which it was written, I
feared you were not well. Alas, I am full of love and fear. How came you
to _walk_ to Dartmouth to preach? Wasn't it by far too long a walk to
take in one day? I heard Dr. Carruthers on Sunday afternoon. He made the
finest allusion to my father I ever heard and mother thought of it as
I did. To-day I have had a good many callers--among the rest Deacon
Lincoln. [3] When he saw the baby he said, "Oh, what a homely creature.
Do tell if the New Bedford babies are so ugly?" Mrs. S., thinking him in
earnest, rose up in high dudgeon and said, "Why, we think her beautiful,
Deacon Lincoln." "Well, I don't wonder," said he. I expect she will get
measles and everything else, for _lots_ of children come to see her and
eat her up. Mother, baby and I spend to-morrow at your mother's. Do up a
lot of sleeping and grow fat, pray do! And oh, love me and think I am
a darling little wife, and write me loving words in your next letter.
_Wednesday_.--We have a fine day for going up to your mother's. And the
baby is bright as a button and full of fun. Aren't you glad?

_To Mrs. Stearns, Portland, May 22, 1847_

We have just been having a little quiet Saturday evening talk about dear
Abby, as we sat here before the lighting of the lamps, and I dare say
I was not the only one who wished you here too. I came up here from my
mother's on Monday morning and have had a delightful week. I can not
begin to tell you how glad I am that we are going to make you a little
visit on our way home. I do so want to see you and your children, and
show you our darling little baby that I can hardly wait till the ti