e last few evenings M. has slept, so that I
could play a game of chess with her and try to cheer and brace her up
against next day's dreariness. All her splendid dreams of getting off
from this solitude to the life and stir of Paris have been dissipated,
but she has never uttered one word of complaint; I have not heard her
say as much as "Isn't it too bad!" And indeed we ought none of us to say
so or to feel so, for the doctor assures me that for three such delicate
children as he considers ours, to pass safely through whooping-dough and
scarlet-fever, is a perfect wonder and that he is sure it is owing to
the pure country air. And when I think how different a scene our house
might present if our three little ones had been snatched away, as three
or four even have been from other families, I am ashamed of myself that
I dare to sigh, that I am lonely and friendless here, or that I have
anything to complain of. It has been no small trial, however, to pass
through such anxieties in so remote a place, with George gone; while on
the other hand I have been most thankful that he has been spared all
the details of the children's ailments, and permitted once more to feel
himself about his Master's business. Providence most plainly called him
to Paris, and I trust he will stay there and get good till we can join
him. But I feel uneasy about him, too, lest his anxiety about the
children should hang as a dead weight on his not quite rested head and
heart. At any rate, I shall be tolerably glad to see him again at the
end of our two months' separation. How I should love to drop in on you
to-night! Doesn't it seem as if one _could_ if one tried hard enough!
Well, good night to you.

_To Mrs. Smith, Genevrier, Jan. 29, 1860._

I believe George has written you about our private hospital. He had not
been gone to Paris forty-eight hours when G. was taken sick; that was a
month ago, and I have only tasted the air twice in all that time. G. had
the disease lightly. M., poor little darling, was much sicker than he
was. It is a fortnight since she was taken and she hardly sits up at
all; an older child would be in bed, but little ones never will give up
if they can help it; I suppose it is because they can be held in the
arms and rocked, and carried about. I have passed through some most
anxious hours on account of M., and it seems little less than a miracle
that she is still alive. The baby is well, and he is a nice little rosy
fellow. It