Your afectionate friend

Rebecca.

P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John because he likes my poetry even when it is not very good. This piece is not very good but it is true but I hope you won't mind what is in it as you ran away.

This house is dark and dull and dreer No light doth shine from far or near Its like the tomb.

And those of us who live herein Are most as dead as serrafim Though not as good.

My gardian angel is asleep At leest he doth no vigil keep

Ah I woe is me!

Then give me back my lonely farm Where none alive did wish me harm Dear home of youth!

P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a book but could not get it right at first. You see "tomb" and "good" do not sound well together but I wanted to say "tomb" dreadfully and as serrafim are always "good" I couldn't take that out. I have made it over now. It does not say my thoughts as well but think it is more right. Give the best one to John as he keeps them in a box with his birds' eggs. This is the best one.