As there had been no physician to help, so there was no minister to comfort, and I could not bear to let our baby leave the world without leaving any message to a community that sadly needed it.  His little message to us had been love, so I selected a chapter from John and we had a funeral service, at which all our neighbors for thirty miles around were present.  So you see, our union is sealed by love and welded by a great sorrow.

Little Jamie was the first little Stewart.  God has given me two more precious little sons.  The old sorrow is not so keen now.  I can bear to tell you about it, but I never could before.  When you think of me, you must think of me as one who is truly happy.  It is true, I want a great many things I haven’t got, but I don’t want them enough to be discontented and not enjoy the many blessings that are mine.  I have my home among the blue mountains, my healthy, well-formed children, my clean, honest husband, my kind, gentle milk cows, my garden which I make myself.  I have loads and loads of flowers which I tend myself.  There are lots of chickens, turkeys, and pigs which are my own special care.  I have some slow old gentle horses and an old wagon.  I can load up the kiddies and go where I please any time.  I have the best, kindest neighbors and I have my dear absent friends.  Do you wonder I am so happy?  When I think of it all, I wonder how I can crowd all my joy into one short life.  I don’t want you to think for one moment that you are bothering me when I write you.  It is a real pleasure to do so.  You’re always so good to let me tell you everything.  I am only afraid of trying your patience too far.  Even in this long letter I can’t tell you all I want to; so I shall write you again soon.  Jerrine will write too.  Just now she has very sore fingers.  She has been picking gooseberries, and they have been pretty severe on her brown little paws.

With much love to you, I am

  “Honest and truly” yours,
    ELINORE RUPERT STEWART.

XIX

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE

     January 6, 1913.

MY DEAR FRIEND,—­

I have put off writing you and thanking you for your thought for us until now so that I could tell you of our very happy Christmas and our deer hunt all at once.

To begin with, Mr. Stewart and Junior have gone to Boulder to spend the winter.  Clyde wanted his mother to have a chance to enjoy our boy, so, as he had to go, he took Junior with him.  Then those of my dear neighbors nearest my heart decided to prevent a lonely Christmas for me, so on December 21st came Mrs. Louderer, laden with an immense plum pudding and a big “wurst,” and a little later came Mrs. O’Shaughnessy on her frisky pony, Chief, her scarlet sweater making a bright bit of color against our snow-wrapped horizon.  Her face and ways are just as bright and cheery as can be.  When she saw Mrs. Louderer’s pudding and sausage she said she had brought nothing because she had come to get something to eat herself, “and,” she continued, “it is a private opinion of mine that my neighbors are so glad to see me that they are glad to feed me.”  Now wouldn’t that little speech have made her welcome anywhere?