Just now took lantern out to Carroll crypt Tom to make sure all was well and found young Lincoln’s coffin slightly jutting out of the wallslot and pushed it back in oh that poor little fellow concluding his first ever lonely night here of many such lonely nights to come a long sad eternity of such nights.
Could not help but think of our Philip about same age as Pres’s boy who will be racing about the yard and come in just positively lit up from inside with joy of living having been flirting over fence with the misses amy & reba leonard nextdoor his hair tousled and grab a broom and in his overflow of happy spirits goose Mrs Alberts the cook in her hindquarters but when she turns to give him a wallop back holding a tremendous turnip and sees that glowing face what can she do but drop said turnip into washbasin and grabbing him about neck smother him with kisses while I secretly hand her broom so as he scats away victorious she can give him a sort of avenging goose of her own in his familiar playworn trousers and a good poke too as that ladys arms are like pot roasts O Lord I cannot bear the thought of Philip lying still in such a place as this and when that thought arises must hum some scrap of tune energetically while praying No no no take that cup away Lord let me go first before any of them I love (before Philip Mary Jack Jr. before dear Lydia) only thats no good either since when they reach their end I will not be there to help them? O either way it is unbearable O God what a bind one is in down here Tom dear friend Tom I long for sleep I await your arrival, & hope these sad & morbid thoughts will soon fade away soon with the happy sight of our dear friend rising the Sun.
Manders, op. cit.
CVIII.
I rode along in that gentleman, upon our little horse, through those quiet streets, and I was not unhappy. Though he was. He had neglected his wife by this night’s indulgence, he felt. And they had another little sick boy at home. Who might also succumb. Though he was better today, he might yet succumb. Anything could happen. As he now knew. He had forgotten. He had somewhat forgotten, about the other boy.
Tad. Dear little Tad.
The gentleman had much on his mind. He did not wish to live. Not really. It was, just now, too hard. There was so much to do, he was not doing it well and, if done poorly, all would go to ruin. Perhaps, in time (he told himself) it would get better, and might even be good again. He did not really believe it. It was hard. Hard for him. Hard for me. To be in there. I resolved nevertheless to stay. It was getting on near morning. Normally, during the day, we took our rest. Were drawn back to our shells and must rest in there. Tonight I did not feel that draw. But I was sleepy. I dozed, and slipped through him, into his horse, who was, I felt at that moment, pure Patience, head to hoof, and fond of the man, and never before had I felt oats to be such a positive thing in the world, or so craved a certain blue blanket. And then I roused myself, and sat up straight, and fully rejoined the gentleman.
And we rode forward into the night, past the sleeping houses of our countrymen.
thomas havens