.NTI.MTM4Mw

[start underline] Monday A.M. 11.52 [end underline] Separated from us, and yet interested as you are in your friends & occurrences [start underline] at home [end underline] with a warm heart, too, brim full of affectionate remembrances & yearnings towards towards the objects of your love which you have long en-joyed, I can easily conceive with what pleasure you receive our communications, & with what interest you read over our minutest details. It is for this [underline] reason, my son, that I have not neglected to write to you often, & at great length. The strong, the tender attachment you feel for persons, & places, & things, that have become familiar & dear to you, is an inheritance descended to you from your father, in whom rough as may appear to you his outside, has resided all his life, in the deep recesses of this very nature, all that womanish [underline] & motherly [underline] sensibility, & desire of home & of near-ness to friends, which you [underline] have, & which you now ex-hibit in your correspondences. I know [underline] your feelings. I feel [underline] your regrets. I experience your sadness from day to day, by the operation of sympathry. I stand at the desk with you, & my thoughts go with yours back over scenes of enjoyment far from Boston- to friends & old companions whose society you mourn for. I go with you every day to your meals which are lonesome in the midst of a crowd. I follow you every night to your narrow cell in the 4th story. I lay my head down with yours upon your pillow. Know that I do all these things, Zadoc, that in my soul & mind I am ever with you, & [start underline] be not lonesome [end underline]