Dear Cousin Nellie,
I have nothing to say about your letter and its reception, except the bare mention of the fact that it was received. To admit -- (I am merely supposing a case now, and I specially protest against your construing this into an admission) to admit that I have derived any particular pleasure from its perusal and re-perusal, or that I had been rescued from one or two or twenty attacks of the blues, or that I prefer the penmanship, which you disparage, to any copybook imitations, even though the c's were beautiful curves with nice little round heads and the l's each as graceful as a sylph. (Now I know you will take me up on another count, and charge me with a malicious attack on your c's and l's.) To admit any of these things, or any other of a dozen or two supposable cases that occur to me, would only be subjecting myself to another charge of gross flattery. I can found no such charge on anything in this letter of yours against you I am sure -- first there is your accusation against me, anything but flattering -- to charge me with very delicate
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