We had a lease of our house until the spring of 1876, but had decided that then we would try country life.
Many hours were passed pleasantly in discussing the plan and its probable results. My wife's fertile brain would paint to me in pleasing colors what the country home should be—the cottage and its coziness, the garden, the lawn and flowers, my health restored, the benefit of country life to the boy, and the relief to my mind through largely reduced living expenses.
We were eager for the time to come to make the change.
On the twelfth of December our second child was born. My first boy had a brother, and again my wife, noble woman, gave testimony of her great love.
No trials that came to her prevented the outpouring of that love to me.
She knew how I needed her fond encouragement, particularly at that period, and she gave it to me daily, always with the same sweet smile and tender caress.
That winter will never be forgotten by me for the torture which I suffered from the almost nightly attacks of that awful rheumatism. Medicine did not seem of any use.
Night after night until long past midnight my devoted wife, with ceaseless energy, would apply every few moments hot applications to relieve the cruel pains, until finally I would fall asleep for a few hours' rest.
I lost flesh rapidly, and when spring came was hardly more than a semblance of my former self.
It was indeed time that I should shake the dust of Brooklyn from my feet.