investigations. Besides the chickens, we have several other
additions to the family--two calves, a colt, and a penful of
funny little pigs. You would be amused to see me hold a squealing
pig in my arms, while Helen feels it all over, and asks countless
questions--questions not easy to answer either. After seeing the
chicken come out of the egg, she asked: "Did baby pig grow in
egg? Where are many shells?"

Helen's head measures twenty and one-half inches, and mine
measures twenty-one and one-half inches. You see, I'm only one
inch ahead!


June 12, 1887.

The weather continues hot. Helen is about the same--pale and
thin; but you mustn't think she is really ill. I am sure the
heat, and not the natural, beautiful activity of her mind, is
responsible for her condition. Of course, I shall not overtax her
brain. We are bothered a good deal by people who assume the
responsibility of the world when God is neglectful. They tell us
that Helen is "overdoing," that her mind is too active (these
very people thought she had no mind at all a few months ago!) and
suggest many absurd and impossible remedies. But so far nobody
seems to have thought of chloroforming her, which is, I think,
the only effective way of stopping the natural exercise of her
faculties. It's queer how ready people always are with advice in
any real or imaginary emergency, and no matter how many times
experience has shown them to be wrong, they continue to set forth
their opinions, as if they had received them from the Almighty!