mon necessaries.

_Thursday._--I had an early and a long call from one of our church, who
wanted to tell me, among other things, that her husband scolded her for
bumping her head in the night; she wept and I condoled; she went away at
last smiling. Then I went to the sewing circle and idled about till one;
then I had several calls. Then papa and I went out to make a lot of
calls. Then came a note from a sick lady, whom I shall go to see in
spite of my horror of strangers. Papa got a letter from Prof. Smith
which gave us great pleasure. Z. was here yesterday; I asked her to stay
to lunch, bribing her with a cup of tea, and so she stayed and we had a
real nice time; when she went away I told her I was dead in love with
her.

_Friday Evening._--The children have all gone to bed; M. and G. have
been reading all the evening; M. busy on Miss Alcott's "Little Women,"
and G. shaking his sides over old numbers of the Riverside. Papa says
our house ought to have a sign put out, "Souls cured here"; because so
many people come to tell their troubles. People used to do just so to my
mother, and I suppose always do to parsons' wives if they'll let 'em.

_Monday._--Papa preached delightfully yesterday. Mr. B. took a pew and
Mr. I don't know who took another. Your letter came this morning and was
full of interesting things. I hope Mrs. S. will send me her own and Jean
Ingelow's verses. What fun to get into a correspondence with her! I have
had an interesting time to-day. Dr. Skinner lent me some months ago a
little book called "God's Furnace"; I didn't like it at first, but read
it through several times and liked it better and better each time. And
to-day Mrs. ---- brought the author to spend a few hours (she lives out
of town), and we three black-eyed women had a remarkable time together.
There is certainly such a thing as a heaven below, only it doesn't last
as the real heaven will. We had Mr. C. to tea last night; after tea he
read us three poems of his wife, and papa was weak enough to go and read
him some verses of mine, which he ought not to have done till I am dead
and gone. Then he played and sang with the children, and we had prayers,
and I read scraps to him and papa from Faber's "All for Jesus" and
Craig's Memoir. M. is lying on the sofa studying, papa is in his study,
the boys are hazing about; it snows a little and melts as it falls, and
so, with love to all, both great and small, I am your loving "ELDERLY
LADY WITH GREY