_New York_, Sunday morng., April 17th, 1853
_Dearest_,
I arrived here in good condition Thursday night at ½ past 12. Every
moment of my time has been so taken up with calls and engagements that
I really could not put pen to paper until now, when I am writing
before going down to breakfast.
It is almost as difficult to see O'Sullivan here as if he were a
hundred miles off. I rode three miles to his home on Friday, and found
him not at home. However, he came yesterday, and we talked together
until other people came between.
I do wish I could be let alone, to follow my own ideas of what is
agreeable. To-day, I am to dine with a college-professor of
mathematics, to meet Miss Lynch!! Why did I ever leave thee, my own
dearest wife? Now, thou seest, I am to be lynched.
We have an ugly storm here to-day. I intend to leave New York for
Philadelphia tomorrow, and shall probably reach Washington on
Wednesday.
I am homesick for thee. The children, too, seem very good and
beautiful. I hope Una will be very kind and sweet. As for Julian, let
Ellen make him a pandowdy. Does Rosebud still remember me? It seems an
age since I left home.
No words can tell how I love thee. I will write again as soon as
possible.