should write to you, I hasten to do so.

In my memory I can go away back to Henry's infancy; I see his large,
blue eyes intently regarding my father when he rebuked him for his
credulity in giving full faith to the boyish idea of planting his
marbles, expecting a crop therefrom; then comes back the recollection
of the time when, standing we three alone by our father's grave, I told
them always to remember that brothers should be kind to each other;
afterward I see Henry returning from school with his books for the last
time. He must go into my printing-office. He learned rapidly. A word
of encouragement or a word of discouragement told upon his organization
electrically. I could see the effects in his day's work. Sometimes
I would say, "Henry!" He would stand full front with his eyes upon
mine--all attention. If I commanded him to do something, without a word
he was off instantly, probably in a run. If a cat was to be drowned or
shot Sam (though unwilling yet firm) was selected for the work. If
a stray kitten was to be fed and taken care of Henry was expected to
attend to it, and he would faithfully do so. So they grew up, and
many was the grave lecture commenced by ma, to the effect that Sam was
misleading and spoiling Henry. But the lectures were never concluded,
for Sam would reply with a witticism, or dry, unexpected humor, that
would drive the lecture clean out of my mother's mind, and change it to
a laugh. Those were happier days. My mother was as lively as any girl
of sixteen. She is not so now. And sister Pamela I have described in
describing Henry; for she was his counterpart. The blow falls crushingly
on her. But the boys grew up--Sam a rugged, brave, quick-tempered,
generous-hearted fellow, Henry quiet, observing, thoughtful, leaning on
Sam for protection; Sam and I too leaning on him for knowledge picked up
from conversation or books, for Henry seemed never to forget anything,
and devoted much of his leisure hours to reading.

Henry is gone! His death was horrible! How I could have sat by him,
hung over him, watched day and night every change of expression, and
ministered to every want in my power that I could discover. This was
denied to me, but Sam, whose organization is such as to feel the utmost
extreme of every feeling, was there. Both his capacity of enjoyment
and his capacity of suffering are greater than mine; and knowing how it
would have affected me to see so sad a scene, I can somewhat appreciate