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that the back kitchen, mangle and all, changed to Love’s
own temple, where we arranged a plan of correspondence
through Miss Mills, always to comprehend at least one let-
ter on each side every day!
What an idle time! What an insubstantial, happy, fool-
ish time! Of all the times of mine that Time has in his grip,
there is none that in one retrospect I can smile at half so
much, and think of half so tenderly.