For myself, by reading and studying and writing a clear hand. And for keeping alive in me somehow the desire to know. Corrine and Samuel and the children are part of a group of people called Missionaries, of the American and African Missionary Society. They have ministered to the Indians out west and are ministering to the poor of this town. All in preparation for the work they feel they were born for, missionary work in Africa. I dread parting from them because in the short time we’ve been together they’ve been like family to me. Like family might have been, I mean. Write if you can. Here are some stamps. But only if they would teach me everything they know to make me useful as a missionary and someone they would not be ashamed to call a friend. When I left you all’s house, walking, he followed me on his horse. When we was well out of sight of the house he caught up with me and started trying to talk. You know how he do, You sure is looking fine, Miss Nettie, and stuff like that. I tr