Hotel Windsor Chicago 4 April 1898.
Dearest Mrs. Shapleigh and Olea:
Ever since the cherished form of our precious friend and beloved leader was placed in the vault at Rose Hill my poor selfish, desolate heart has sent into the distance the day when we must transfer the loved casket to “the low green tent whose curtain never outward swings.” On Saturday last as I renewed the fragrant “lily censers” at her feet she seemed almost to chide me gently and to say “Why do you leave me here in the cold and the dark away from my own? The glad Easter comes! will not that hallowed day of resurrection help you take me through the promised white path of pure refining fire to the quiet mound where I can ‘creep in with mother’ and be with ‘my