Dear Miss Lind, -From the highest pinnacle of hope, I have sunk to the lowest depths of despair. Your rejection of my passion has filled me with indescribable misery and wretchedness. I feel myself, as it were, an isolated being - a lonely wanderer over the face of nature, without one friendly ray of light to guide me on my way. Still, whatever may be my fate, one only thought will be ever uppermost in my breast; and that thought will be on your lovely self. My passion for you is of the nature of quicksilver, which though it runs into a thousand different directions, loses nothing of its strength, and must, at last, unite into one body and return to its first channel, do what you will to separate and disperse it. That you may ever be as happy as I am wretched, shall be the constant prayer of
Your ever-attached though disappointed lover,

Edward Talbot.