I'm very sorry indeed that I cannot be in Oakland Thursday evening to
see you "in your glory," arrayed, doubtless, like a lily of the field.
However glorious you may be in public, though, I fancy I should like
you better as you used to be out at camp.
Well, I mean to see you on Saturday afternoon if you are at home, and
think I shall ask you to be my guide to Grizzlyville; for surely I
shall never be able to find the wonderful new house alone. So if your
mamma will let you go out there with me I promise to return you to her
instead of running away with you. And, possibly, weather permitting,
we can arrange for a Sunday in the redwoods or on the hills. Or don't
your folks go out any more o' Sundays?
Please give my thanks to your mother for the kind invitation to put up
at your house; but I fear that would be impossible. I shall have to be
where people can call on me--and such a disreputable crowd as my
friends are would ruin the Partingtonian reputation for
respectability. In your new neighborhood you will all be very
proper--which you could hardly be with a procession of pirates and
vagrants pulling at your door-bell.
So--if God is good--I shall call on you Saturday afternoon. In the
meantime and always be thou happy--thou and thine. Your unworthy
uncle,