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Est. Sept. 2012

Letter 7 - April 21st, 1877

Dear Jacob,

I confess that I am not content living here in Hemlock. The gray atmosphere is unbearably oppressive and it seems that any seed of joy endeavoring to sprout from the ground is immediately crushed by the leaden gloom. But perhaps what I detest more than Hemlock itself is the valley through which I occasionally travel. There is something unseen there that unnerves me so. The place has held an unfavorable reputation for nearly a century. I especially do not wish to find myself there beyond dusk.

Quincy

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