The following was dated a few months after the departure of the party,
not the first though, you may be sure.

L----, Dec, 18--
DEAREST EMILIE,

I am thinking so much of you to-night
that I must write to tell you so. I wish letters
only cost one penny to Frankfort, and I would write to
you every day. I want so to know how you are spending
your Christmas at Frankfort. We shall have no Christmas
tree this year. We all agreed that it would be a melancholy
attempt at mirth now you are gone, and dear Fred
and John and poor Joe. I fancy you will have one
though, and oh, I wish I was with you to see it, but
mamma is often very poorly now, and likes me to be
with her, and I know I am in the right place, so I
won't wish to be elsewhere. Papa is very much from
home now, he has so many patients at a distance, and
sometimes he takes me long rides with him, which is
a great pleasure. One of his patients is just dead,
you will be sorry to hear who I mean--Poor old Joe
Murray! He took cold in November, going out with
his Life Boat, one very stormy night, to a ship in
distress off L---- sands, the wind and rain were very
violent, and he was too long in his wet clothes, but he
saved with his own arm two of the crew; two boys about
the age of his own poor Bob. Every one says it was a
noble act; they were just ready to sink, and the boat in
another moment would have gone off without them. His