ordinary patience; and my faith was so far exhausted that, when they told
me yesterday that the sun was setting clear, I would not even turn my
eyes towards the west. But this morning I am made all over anew, and
have no greater remnant of my cold than will serve as an excuse for doing
no work to-day.

The family has been dismal and dolorous throughout the storm. The night
before last, William Allen was stung by a wasp on the eyelid; whereupon
the whole side of his face swelled to an enormous magnitude, so that, at
the breakfast-table, one half of him looked like a blind giant (the eye
being closed), and the other half had such a sorrowful and ludicrous
aspect that I was constrained to laugh out of sheer pity. The same day,
a colony of wasps was discovered in my chamber, where they had remained
throughout the winter, and were now just bestirring themselves, doubtless
with the intention of stinging me from head to foot A similar discovery
was made in Mr. Farley's room. In short, we seem to have taken up our
abode in a wasps' nest. Thus you see a rural life is not one of unbroken
quiet and serenity.

If the middle of the day prove warm and pleasant, I promise myself to
take a walk. . . . . I have taken one walk with Mr. Farley; and I could
not have believed that there was such seclusion at so short a distance
from a great city. Many spots seem hardly to have been visited for
ages,--not since John Eliot preached to the Indians here. If we were to
travel a thousand miles, we could not escape the world more completely
than we can here.

* * * * * *

I read no newspapers, and hardly remember who is President, and feel as