painting a plate. They work all the
morning in the garden, and in the afternoon sit in my room sewing "for
the poor" like two Dorcases, or drive, or row on the pond. They also
study their Greek Testament together like a pair of twins. Just here Mr.
P. came driving up to take me out to make calls. We made three together,
and then I made three alone. Now we are going to have tea, and should be
glad if you could take it with us.

_To Mrs. Condict, Kauinfels, Sept. 13, 1877._

Since you left, I have been very busy in various ways; among other
things, helping Hatty collect her last trophies, pack her various
plants, and the like. Then there is a woman, close by, who is very sick
and very poor, and the parson and his wife (meaning himself and myself)
must needs pack a big basket of bread, butter, tea, apples, etc., for
her watchers and family, with extract of beef for her. That was real
fun, as you may suppose. I mean to devote Thursdays to such doings,
including the Bible-readings. I took for my Bible-reading this
afternoon, the subject of confession of sin, and should really like to
know what perfectionists would say to the passages of Scripture relating
to it. However, I know they would explain them away or throw them under
the table, as they do all the Bible says about the discipline of life.
Our bad Pharaoh lifted up his voice in every hymn at Mrs. Reed's last
Sunday, and little Albert fairly shrieked with laughter. If next Sunday
is pleasant we are to go to Pawlet to preach. Good-night. [19]

_To Mrs. Fisher, Kauinfels, Sept. 15, 1877._

Excuse my keeping your pictures so long. It is owing to my having so
much company. We feel it a duty to share our delightful home here with
friends.

Will you send me some more pictures, and in your letter please tell me
how to make the light-green in the large arbutus leaf; I tried all sorts
of experiments, but failed to get such a toned-down tint. My copy is
pretty, as I have improved a good deal on the whole; but my work looks
parvenu. I had to use a powerful magnifying-glass to puzzle out your
delicate touches, and your work bore the test, it is so well done. My
work, viewed in the same way, is horrid. A. has been to Portland and
found there some exquisite placques; some of them of a _very_ delicate
cream color; others of a least suspicion of pink. She began to paint
thorn apples on one; but a day or two later, found some of the foliage
we had thrown away, turned to most delic