_Portsmouth_, Sept. 3d, 1852
_Ownest Phoebe_,
I left Brunswick Wednesday night, and arrived here yesterday, with
Pierce. My adventures thou shalt know when I return, and how I was
celebrated by orators and poets--and how, by the grace of Divine
Providence, I was not present, to be put to the blush. All my
contemporaries have grown the funniest old men in the world. Am I a
funny old man?
I am going to cross over to the Isle of Shoals, this forenoon, and
intend to spend several days there, until I get saturated with
sea-breezes.
I love thee very much-est;--likewise, the children are very pleasant
to think of. Kiss Una--Kiss Julian--Kiss Rosebud--for me! Kiss
thyself, if thou canst--and I wish thou wouldst kiss me.
A boat passes between Portsmouth and the Isle of Shoals, every
forenoon; and a letter, I presume, would reach me in case of
necessity.