In this tranquil place, and among these genial, natural people,
how happily my time might be passed, were it not for the
saddening sight of William's affliction, and the wearing
uncertainty of how we are to provide for future necessities! It
is a hard thing for my husband and me, after having had the day
made pleasant by kind words and friendly offices, to feel this
one anxious thought always forcing itself on us at night: Shall
we have the means of stopping in our new home in a month's time?

3d.--A rainy day; the children difficult to manage; William
miserably despondent. Perhaps he influenced me, or perhaps I felt
my little troubles with the children more than usual: but,
however it was, I have not been so heavy-hearted since the day
when my husband first put on the green shade. A listless,
hopeless sensation would steal over me; but why write about it?
Better to try and forget it. There is always to-morrow to look to
when to-day is at the worst.

4th.--To-morrow has proved worthy of the faith I put in it.
Sunshine again out-of-doors; and as clear and true a reflection
of it in my own heart as I can hope to have just at this time.
Oh! that month, that one poor month of respite! What are we to do
at the end of the month?

5th.--I made my short entry for yesterday in the afternoon just
before tea-time, little thinking of events destined to happen
with the evening that would be really worth chronicling, for the
sake of the excellent results to which they are sure to lead. My
tendency is to be too sanguine about everything, I know; but I
am, nevertheless, firmly persuaded that I can see a new way out