I walk out in him, being mamma and nurse [Rosebud was still up]. When
you write to Mr. Plumly, bless him for me for the mantle [his gift to
Mrs. Peabody] and his beautiful, refreshing letter about it. I had a
great mind to write to him myself of his appreciation of you and of my
husband. What a noble, lovely person he is!
Your child, SOPHY.
April 14, 1853.
My husband went off in a dark rain this morning, on his way to
Washington. Mary Herne called to baby to come and take care of her
dolly, who was upon the floor in the kitchen. Rose rushed in a
breakneck manner across the parlor, exclaiming as if in the utmost
maternal distress, "Oh, mershy, mershy!" and rescued Dolly from her
peril. She was quite happy and still in the kitchen; and then I heard
her shout, "I like it--I like it motch!" I asked Mary what it was that
baby liked so "motch." When Mary got up to investigate, she found baby
in the closet at the molasses jug, still crying, "I like it--I like it
motch!" She was very much diverted by our consternation; and when, at
tea-time, I was speaking of it, she burst into inextinguishable
laughter; and as soon as she could speak, said, "I glad! Was ever such
a mischief?" Twice to-day she began to go into the Study for "papa
take her." I sent Julian to the village at five, and he returned in a
pouring rain. His sack kept him dry, but he thought he was soaked to
the skin because his nose was wet. He brought a letter from Charlotte
Bridge, inclosing two notes to my husband from Mr.
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