Dec. 23d.—­It rained very hard all day yesterday till just about the time of the funeral, half-past three, when the church was well filled, the Mission-school occupying seats by themselves and the teachers by themselves....  I thought as I listened to the address that it would reconcile me to seeing you lying there in your coffin, if such a record stood against your name.  Papa read, at the close, a sort of prophetic poem of Mrs. C.’s, which she wrote a year or more ago, of which I should like to send you all a copy, it is so good in every sense.  He wants me to send you a few hasty lines I scribbled off on Sunday noon, with which he closed his sermon that afternoon, and repeated again at the funeral, but it is not worth the ink.  After the service the mission children went up to look at the remains, and passed out; then the rest of the congregation.  One of the mission children fainted and fell, and was carried out in Mr. L.’s arms.  After the rest dispersed papa took me in, and there we saw a most touching sight; a dozen poor women and children weeping about the coffin, offering a tribute to her memory, sweeter than the opulent display of flowers did. Evening.—­The interment took place to-day, at Woodlawn.  Mr. C. wished me to go, and I did.  On the way home a gentlemanly-looking man stepped up to your father, and taking his hand said, “I never saw you till to-day, but I love you; yes, there is no other word!” Wasn’t it nice of him?

Dec. 24th.—­Papa went in last evening, for a half hour, to see ——­ and his bride, at their great reception, drank two glasses of “coffee sangaree,” and brought me news that overcame me quite,—­namely, that ——­ was delighted with my book.  Nesbit & Co. sent me a copy of their reprint of it.  They have got it up beautifully with six colored illustrations, most of them very good; little Earnest is as cunning as he can be, and the old grandpa is perfect.  Katy, however, has her hair in a waterfall in the year 1835 and even after, wears long dresses, and always has on a sontag or something like one.  She goes to see Dr. Cabot in a red sacque, and a red hat, and has a muff in her lap.  Mrs. ——­ was here the other day to say that I had drawn her husband’s portrait exactly in Dr. Elliot.  I have been out with M. all the morning, doing up our last shopping.  We came home half frozen, and had lunch together, when lo, a magnificent basket of flowers from Mrs. D. and some candy from the party; papa and G. came home and we all fell to making ourselves sick....  I have bought lots of candy and little fancy cakes to put in the children’s stockings.  I know it is very improper, but one can’t be good always.  Dr. P. is sick with pneumonia.  Mrs. P. has just sent me a basket of fresh eggs, and an illustrated edition of Longfellow’s “Building of the Ship.”

25th.—­I wish you a Merry Christmas, darling, and wonder what you are all doing to celebrate this day.  We have had great times over our presents....  I got a note from Mr. Abbot saying that a friend of his in Boston had given away fourteen Katies, all he could get, and that the bookseller said he could have sold the last copy thirty times over.  Neither papa nor I feel quite up to the mark to-day; we probably got a little cold at Mrs. C.’s grave, as the wind blew furiously, and the hymn, and prayer, and benediction took quite a time.