[p. 1] Dear friend,
I send the promised extract from the “[Ulna?].” It will I think, interest you.
How are you today? When I used to think of you this language of the poet seemed peculiarly adapted to you.
Thou, sheltered ‘neath a parent’s tireless care
The fondly loved, the theme of many prayer” Now my sympathizing spirit greets thine with this sad situation.
“Dove, when the Lord hath wounded,
Yet waiteth to revive.” Great thy burden upon him, for in him there is a fullness (I know from blessed experience) that will supply all losses. My mother was all the world to me, my cherished friend, my idol; yet God did so comfort me even, while my fingers served the [illegible] that way to cover her [precious?] head as she lay in the coffin that I [p. 2] could have sung aloud as he sweetly whispered in the ear of my soul “Beauty shall spring out of ashes and life out of the dust.” He will comfort thee!
The Governor of the State visited us last week. I watched him closely to see whether he had any heart for us; He was very respectful and polite but cold as an iceberg. Every day I see clearer that there is no true honor but that which comes from God. I had much rather had a visit from Jeremiah Hacker or Thomas [Wistat?] than from 10 such Governors.
I send also, dear Rebecca, a short sketch of my Grandfather. I thought it might amuse a lonely half-hour.
After a week or so I will send one of the children for it. Please present my kind regards to your sister.
And believe me, in the truest, tenderest sympathy,
S. M. Douglass
5 Mo. 28. 55.