Letter 81 - May 16th, 1842
Dearest and most humble Abagail,
I fear my words may not convey the wonder with which I was filled after opening your letter. Admittedly, for more than an hour, I stared at your endearing illustration, studying even the finest pen strokes. With merely ink, you not only captured the beauty of the tender dove, but a fleeting moment of life itself. And who is to say that your friend is not a heavenly messenger in disguise? I implore you to no longer hide these noetic reflections of your soul, but share them without apprehension; for I see in you a prodigious artist. And for as long as I live, I shall cherish your drawing. Does the mourning dove have a mate? Or is he forlorn?
Love, your very own,
William
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