All we lacked of
happiness was your presence. Not much time passes that you are not thought of,
talked of, and sometimes cried over, but that is always done decently and
in order, so I think I pass for one of the most cheerful, happy women
imaginable. I do not dare to let Birchie see me downcast for he has so much
sympathy that it is very touching to see him, and I do not want to cloud his
young life with sorrow. Today is his birthday. He is very happy. Uncle George brought
him an air-pistol, and he started to school, all of which, makes him really
happy. The book which I get for him from you will complete his joy. . . . I felt finely this morning. Every thing
right. . . . But this afternoon, felt
almost down. Ruddy's chill is one cause, Birchie's absence another and Fremont
the last and greatest. I cannot give him up, yet it looks dark and
forbidding. It will be the last moment that I give up his honor, patriotism,
and power to successfully command an army.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 139
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