Dear Mark,
I send you by mail to-day Baring-Goulds novel “In Exitu Israel,” which it has taken me longer than I thought to procure.
And I seize the occasion—in fact I have been waiting for it—to tell you again how much I value our late trip to Bermuda and how grateful I am to you for your kindness in proposing inviting me to it.
Ever since we got home I have felt that it would be necessary for me to shed a little ink on the subject before I was done with it i.e as a matter between you and me.
The more I think it over, the more impressed I am with the fact, that we (or I) had a splendid time—the more conscious I am of having enjoyed it, as I have enjoyed few things in all my life. I had to work so for a fortnight after our return that I could not fairly compose my mind to a review of what we saw and did. But now that I am somewhat less intensely occupied, it comes over me night and day as a dream of delights. What a happy four days we spent ashore—how innocent and mirthful! I was more like a boy in my feelings than I remember being for many a year.
I find that I derived very marked physical benefit from the recreation and rest I had, and furnished my mind with a rich stock of new impressions as well.
Put it down as an oasis! I’m afraid I shall not see as green a spot again soon. And it was your invention and your gift. And your company was the best of it. Indeed, I never took more comfort in being with you than on this journey; which, my boy, is saying a great deal.
Well, Mark, I thank you for everything, and may God bless you and yours for your goodness to me and mine. Amen.
A rumor has reached us that Clara was sick on the way to Elmira. We judge, however, that her illness was brief, or we should have heard more about it.
Dean Sage got home a fortnight ago, and a few days after had a violent attack of his malady, from which he is slowly recovering, and expects to come up this week or next to spend a day or two with us. Will SageCto whom I wrote making inquiryCsays that they are all a good deal discouraged about Dean, as it is plain that he cannot endure many attacks like this last.
All of us are well. Six weeks more and we are off for the Adirondacks—six groaning weeks—while you repose like gods on the heights of your calm cool Hill. Tell me what you think of “In Exitu.” With love to Livy & the girls
Yrs aff
Joe
