V. R.
January 18th.
* * * The service in Dr. Weber’s study before the open coffin, filled with flowers, was very affecting. He was truly beloved and respected. His sufferings must have been intense, and for many years borne heroically—not a word said; not a complaint; always ready to bear the sorrows of others with them, yet bearing his own unassisted! Wonderful self-command and unselfishness! He knew his illness was fatal; even to the latter weeks considered his days as but few, and put all in order, without letting his family and friends know what he himself only too well foresaw.
It was a stormy afternoon with pouring rain when he was buried. Louis, his poor boy, and many were out. * * *
We have April weather. I have a very heavy cold, and feel so weak and done up. It is too warm and unhealthy; every place smells, our house especially.
January 27th.
* * * My little May has such a cold, which lessens her usual smiles. She is a fine, strong child, more like what Victoria was, but marked eyebrows, with the fair hair and such speaking eyes. She and Aliky are a pretty contrast!
February 14th.
You say of the drains just what I have said from year to year; and this summer—if we can get away in the spring, when it is most unwholesome—what can be done is to be done, and I hope with better success than what has hitherto been attempted.
My little May cannot get rid of her cough, though she looks pink and smiling. I shall be so glad to show her to you—she is so pretty and dear.