How are you, my good papa? Never has it cost me so dearly to be away from you; every evening it seems that you would be happy to see me, and every evening I think of you. On Monday the 21st, I shall come to see you again; I hope that by then you will be strong on your legs, and that the Wednesday and Saturday teas, and the Sunday morning tea will resume in all their glory. I shall bring you the good bishop, my fat husband will make us laugh, our children will laugh together, the tall neighbor will snicker, Abbés La Roche and Morellet will eat all the butter, Mme Grand, his likeable niece, and Mr. Grand will do no harm to our little group; Père Pagin will play "Dieu d'Amour" on the violin, I shall play the "Marche" on the piano, you will play "Petits Oiseaux" on the harmonica. Oh my friend, let us see beautiful and strong legs for you in the future, and let us forget the bad one which has so persecuted you. After evil days one enjoys the happy ones all the more! Life is strewn with both which she constantly varies, but what she cannot prevent from being immutable, uniform is my tenderness for you, which time, place, and events will never alter.

My mother and my whole family send you their regards.

I received news of you from the neighbor, but I must have some from you.