26th.—­Dr. P. is worse.  Papa has been to see him since church, and Dr. B., who was there, said that Dr. Murray quoted from Katy in his sermon to-day, and then pausing long enough to attract everybody’s attention, he said he wished each of them to procure and read it.  I hope you and Mrs. Smith won’t get sick hearing about it; I assure you I don’t tell you half I might. Evening.—­Mr. C. has been here this evening to show us a poem by his wife, just come out in the January number of the Sabbath at Home, in which she asks the New Year what it has in store for her, and says if it is death, it is only going home the sooner.  Neither he, or anyone, had seen it or heard of it, and it came to them with overwhelming power and consolation as the last utterance of her Christian faith. [1]

Dec. 30th, 1869.—­Your letter came yesterday morning, after breakfast, and was read to an admiring audience of Prentisses by papa, who occasionally called for counsel as to this word and that.  We like the plan made for the winter, and hope it will suit all round.  You had such a grand birth-day that I don’t see what there was left for Christmas, and hope you got nothing but a leather button.  My Percys end to-day, and I am shocked at the wretched way in which I ended them.  I wish you would buy a copy of Griseldis for me.  Why don’t you tell what you are reading?  I got for M.  “A Sister’s Bye Hours,” by Jean Ingelow, and find it a delightful book; such lots of quiet humor and so much good sense and good feeling; you girls would enjoy reading it aloud together.

Jan. 3d, 1870.—­You will want to hear all about New Year’s day, and where shall I begin unless at the end thereof, when your and Mrs. Smith’s letters came, and which caused papa ungraciously to leave me to entertain, while he greedily devoured them and his dinner.  In spite of rain we had a steady flow of visitors.  I will enclose a list for your delectation, for as reading a cook-book sort of feeds one, reading familiar names sort of comforts one.  Mr. ——­ was softer and more languishing than ever, and appeared like a man who had been fed on honey off the tips of a canary bird’s feather....  Papa and I agreed, talking it over last evening, that it is a bad plan for husbands and wives not to live and die together, as the one who is left is apt to cut up.  He hinted that I was “so fond of admiration” that he was afraid I should, if he died.  On questioning him as to what he meant by this abominable speech, he said he meant to pay me a compliment!!! that he thought me very susceptible when people loved me and very fond of being loved—­which I am by him; all other men I hate.  My cousin G. dined with us on Friday and took me to the meeting held annually at Dr. Adams’ church.  I like him ever so much, though he is a man.  G. has brought me in some dandelions from the church-yard.  We have not had one day of severe cold yet, and there is a great deal of sickness about in consequence.