glass with her, so that
we had a chance to study his really good face. The only book I expect to
write this winter is to you; I am dreadfully lazy since you left, and
don't do anything but haze about. There is a good deal of lively talk at
the table; the children are waked up by going to school, and there is
some rivalry among them, each maintaining that his and hers is the best.

_Dec. 15th._--We have cards for a "Soiree musicale" at Mrs. ----'s,
which is to be a great smash-up. She called here to-day and wept and
wailed over and kissed me. I have been to see how Mrs. C. is. She is a
little worse to-day, and he and her father scarcely leave her. He wrung
my hand all to pieces, poor man. Her illness is exciting great sympathy
in our church, and nobody seems willing to let her go. Dr. Adams spent
last evening here. He is splendid company; I really wish he would come
once a week. Everybody is asking if I meant in Katy to describe myself.
I have no doubt that if I should catch an old toad, put on to her a
short gown and petticoat and one of my caps, everybody would walk up
to her and say, "Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Prentiss, you look more like
yourself than common; I recognise the picture you have drawn of yourself
in Stepping Heavenward and in the Percys," etc., etc., etc., _ad
nauseam_. The next book I write I'll make my heroine black and everybody
will say, "Oh, here you are again, black to the life!"

_Dec. 18th._--You and M. will not be surprised to hear that Mrs. C.'s
sufferings are over. She died this morning. Papa and I are greatly
shaken. With much hesitation I decided to go over there to see her
mother, and the welcome I got from her and from Mr. C. are things to
remember for a life-time. I will never hesitate again to fly to people
in trouble. If you were here I would tell you all about my visit, but I
can't write it down. It seems so sad, just as they had got into their
lovely new home--sad for _him_, I mean; as for her I can only wish her
joy that she is not weeping here below as he is. I stayed till it was
time for church, and when I entered it I was met by many a tearful face;
papa announced her death from the pulpit, and is going, this afternoon,
to throw aside the sermon he intended to preach, and extemporise on "the
first Sunday in heaven." The children are going in, this noon, to sing;
as to the Mission festival, that is to be virtually given up; the
children are merely to walk in, receive their presents,