ies looked very nice.
It rains, but M. and I have surveyed the garden, and she says it is
looking better than usual.

I only wish you were here. Your love is intensely precious to me, as I
know mine is to you. How thankful we ought to be that we have loved
each other through thick and thin! This is God's gift. I can not write
legibly with this pencil, nor see very well, as it is a dark day, and
yet too early for a lamp.

The latter part of June she made a short visit with her husband to
Montreal. A pleasant incident of this journey was an excursion to
Quebec, where two charming days were spent in seeing the Falls of
Montmorenci, the Plains of Abraham, and other objects of interest in and
about that remarkable city. During the ride in the cars from Montreal to
St. Albans, she called the attention of her husband to a paragraph from
an English newspaper containing an account of the death of a miner by an
explosion, on whose breast was found a lock of hair inscribed with the
name of "Jessie." She remarked that the incident would serve as an
excellent hint for a story. This was the origin of _Gentleman Jim_, the
pathetic little tale published shortly after her death.

Soon after her return from Montreal she began painting in water-colors,
which afforded her much delight during the rest of her life. The
following note to Mrs. Ellen S. Fisher, of Brooklyn, dated July 2d, will
show how her lessons were taken:

Will you kindly inform me as to your method of teaching your system
of water-colors by mail, and as to terms. I have not had time to do
anything in that line, as I had to go to Canada (by-the-bye, you can get
delightful Chinese white paint there in tubes). My daughter says she
thinks she heard you say that you would paint a little flower-piece
reasonably, or perhaps you have one to spare now. I should like a few
wild flowers against a blue sky. I got half a dozen Parian vases at
Montreal--each a group of three--and filled with daisies and a few
grasses, they are exquisite. Some of them are in imitation of the hollow
toadstools one finds in the woods.

_To Mrs. Condict, Kauinfels, July 23, 1877._

Kauinfels is a word we invented, after spending no little time, by
referring to a spot in a favorite brook as "the place where the old cow
fell in"; it looked so German and pleased us so much that we concluded
to give our place that name. We are fond of odd names. We have a dog
Pharaoh and a horse Shoo Fly. Then we had Sha