[Some paragraph breaks added for ease of reading.]Boston Jan. 24th 1854. Evening.
My very dear Louise
It seems so strange to address a letter to you as a young lady, for I can only think of the timid little girl whom I used to love as a pet - a little girl, but wearing about her a large heart. The last has grown no smaller, I hope, while, according to all accounts, you[r] corporeal part has become much larger. Did you think we had all forgotten you, because we have not written? It is not so, for we have thought and not talked of you much! Father has had your Bible on hand sometime, and would be very glad if he could give it to you himself, and receive for his reward, another kiss, as sweet as those you used to give him when you sat on his knee. He intends to send it by mail, but as he doesn't know exactly how to direct it, he would like to have you send the desired information. Mother speaks of you very often, and would be overjoyed if she could see you, and the rest of the family.
Things go on here very much the same as when you were last here, with all except myself. I long ago left the public school, having received the reward which Boston school girls prize very highly - the silver medal awarded by the city. Last September I entered for the first time, the walls of the "Mt. Holyoke Female Seminary" S. Hadley, Mass. I presume you have heard of its founder, Miss. Mary Lyon, a lady full of benevolence, and large desires for the whole human family. She died about five years ago, leaving a spotless name, that is held in the deepest veneration by all who knew her, and this Seminary the fruit of her labors.
It is situated 110 miles from Boston, and 12 from Springfield, about a mile and a half from the Connecticut river. From its windows, Mt. Holyoke, Mt. Tom, and several other smaller mountains may be seen. The scenery is very fine, and the climate healthy. There are 300 pupils, and 16 teachers. All live in one family, in the same house.
I like it very much indeed, and I wish when you are old enough, you could go too. (They admit none under 16, and they require to be examined in certain specified studies before they can be admitted. They have so many applications, that those who wish to go, have to apply nearly a year beforehand.) The first term has closed, and there has been a vacation of a fortnight, but day after to-morrow I start again with many others, to begin another term. This will continue 14 weeks, when I shall, if I live and prosper, come home again, for another fortnight. Haven't I given you quite an account of myself?
Davie is standing beside me rubbing his eyes, he is so sleepy, and says "send my love to Louisa." James is down stairs with father. He has come up stairs since I wrote the last sentence, and says "give her my love, and tell her I hope she is a dear good gal." Aunt Salina and Aunt Sabrina I have not seen since Thanksgiving, when we were all at Uncle Jonathan's, excepting poor Aunt Almira. She is very ill indeed, and it is note likely she will live many weeks.
Mother and I were out there last Thursday, and I felt indeed as though I had seen her for the last time. Her limbs are very much swollen, but her face and arms are much emaciated. Her breath is very short, and she talks with difficulty, pausing between every few words. It seems so sad for her to die and leave those dear little children. I believe you have seen Eddy and Sarah. Frankie and the baby are very dear little ones. The baby is named Alice May, and I do wish you could see her. I think her prettier than all the others, and certainly she seems nearer the heart that she will probably never know a fond mother's love.
You know of course of our darling Walter's death. Oh! if you could only have seen him in that last cold sleep - he was so exquisitely beautiful!
But I am drawing to the end of my paper and it is getting late. All wish to [be] remembered most affectionately to all the members of your family. Please write to me as soon as you receive this, and direct to
R. J. Weston
Female Seminary
S. Hadley
Massand I shall be sure to get it. Tell me all about "the West" and how you are, what you are doing, &c. And now good-night, my coz. Yours with earnest affection
Please write particularly concerning the health of your mother. Please excuse the looks of this, as I have written in very great haste.