aw
(or rather heard) her so brilliant. In the evening I read aloud to the
children a real live, wide-awake Sunday-school book, called "Old Stories
in a New Dress"; Bible stories, headed thus: "The Handsome Rebel," "The
Young Volunteer," "The Ingenious Mechanics."

_April 16th._--I can not go to bed, my dear chicken, till I have told
you what a charming day we have had. To go back to yesterday, my
headache entirely disappeared by the time the Skinners got here, and we
had a pleasant cosy evening with them, and at the end made Dr. Skinner
pray over us.... Everything went off nicely. The children enjoyed the
trip tremendously, and hated to come away. We picked a lot of "filles
avant la mere" and they came home in good condition. Mr. Woolsey and Z.
gave me a little silver figure holding a cup, on blue velvet, which
is ever so pretty. We got home at half-past six. Later in the evening
President Hopkins called to offer his congratulations. And now I am
tired, I can tell you. It is outrageous for you and the Smiths to be
away; I don't see how you can have the heart. You ought to come by
dispatch as telegrams.

_17th._--Dr. Hopkins preached a splendid sermon [6] for us this morning,
and came in after it for a call. He asked me last night if I felt
conceited about my book; so I said to him, "I like to give people as
good as they send--don't you feel a little conceited after that sermon?"
on which he gave me a good shaking.

_18th._--I have been writing notes of thanksgiving, each of which dear
papa reads through rose-colored spectacles and says, "You do beat all!"
I have enjoyed writing them, instead of finding it a bore. We shall be
curious to hear how you celebrated our wedding-day. Well, good-bye, old
child. I shall begin another letter to-day, as like as not.

_Monday, April 25th._--Friday morning, in the midst of my plans for
helping Aunt E. shop, came a message from Mrs. B. that she wanted to see
me. I had not expected to see her again, and of course was glad to go.
She had altered so that I should not have known her, and it was hard to
hear what she had to say, she is so feeble. She went back to the first
time she saw me, told me what I had on, and how her heart was knitted to
me. She then spoke of her approaching death; said she had no ecstasies,
no revelations, but had been in perfect peace, suffering agonies of
pain, yet not one pain too many. I asked her if she had any parting
counsel to give me. "No, not a word;