Mother dear, it was lovely in you to turn the tables on us all so happily, & make the season which was properly the season of love-offerings to you a festival of love-offerings from you:—s Stupid, & dull, & no-account as I was from last night’s bankruptcy in the matter of rest & sleep, I had still life enough left to perceive & appreciate the charm of it, though not enough to express it. And so, regretting this dumbness, as we came up the hill, I thought I would seek out a tongue in a pencil, be it even a lame one & ineffectual, & make it say what I have just above said, as well as it might. I prize my rauchen-geschirr (as the Germans would call it), & the love that comes with it; & shall keep the one in warm remembrance of the other, & not let its double office stale for lack of use. And I offer my love in return, & my hope & wish that your next birth-day may be as happy & heart-whole as this, & all of us be there to see!