"MY DEAR LITTLE MAMA,--I was truly happy to hear that you were all
well. We are surrounded with measles at present on every side, for the
Herons got it, and Isabella Heron was near Death's Door, and one night
her father lifted her out of bed, and she fell down as they thought
lifeless. Mr. Heron said, 'That lassie's deed noo,'--'I'm no deed yet.'
She then threw up a big worm nine inches and a half long. I have begun
dancing, but am not very fond of it, for the boys strikes and mocks
me.--I have been another night at the dancing; I like it better. I will
write to you as often as I can; but I am afraid not every week. _I long
for you with the longings of a child to embrace you,--to fold you in my
arms. I respect you with all the respect due to a mother. You dont know
how I love you. So I shall remain, your loving child,_--M. FLEMING."
What rich involution of love in the words marked! Here are some lines
to her beloved Isabella, in July, 1811:--
"There is a thing that I do want,--
With you these beauteous walks to haunt;
We would be happy if you would
Try to come over if you could.
Then I would all quite happy be
_Now and for all eternity_.
My mother is so very sweet,
_And checks my appetite to eat;_
My father shows us what to do;
But O I'm sure that I want you.
I have no more of poetry;
O Isa do remember me,
And try to love your Marjory."