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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 210 [05-31-1861]

               George Bolton�s Letter.
she risked all for me � and see, Tom, see �
she is the sacrifice.   You do not know, you can-
not conceive what mental agony I suffer � all
my friends out here are lip friends only � J.
C. might lose half a dollar�s worth of time by
coming out to see his sister, so he does not come.
His housekeeper is the only woman my poor
wife can like as a nurse, and she says she
can stay but one night � John is busy on his
farm and can�t spare her.     Indeed I can�t
help the contempt I feel for his miserable merce-
nary spirit.            When can you come up to see me?
� the turning of my destiny is now � oh! that
you were here to speak a cheering word in this
horrible solitude � oh! God, how my heart-
aches � Where shall I go? what shall I do with
my babe? � I cannot go to England, for the
poor little thing will bind me here, yet why should 
I stay in this desert without a soul to love me or
to love?     Tom, I�ve plenty to eat and drink and
to spare � food costs little up here � say not a
word about that.    My wish is this � do you
wait a day or two, till I see how my dear
wife�s health turns, if the worst, I shall need
your counsel for my future action � should she
be spared, then you must come.    If you get into               
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