aged because of the grippe that nothing but the mountains,
the pines, and the clean, fresh air seemed worth while; so it all came
about just as I have written you.

So you see I was very deceitful. Do you remember, I wrote you of a
little baby boy dying? That was my own little Jamie, our first little
son. For a long time my heart was crushed. He was such a sweet,
beautiful boy. I wanted him so much. He died of erysipelas. I held him
in my arms till the last agony was over. Then I dressed the beautiful
little body for the grave. Clyde is a carpenter; so I wanted him to
make the little coffin. He did it every bit, and I lined and padded it,
trimmed and covered it. Not that we couldn't afford to buy one or that
our neighbors were not all that was kind and willing; but because it
was a sad pleasure to do everything for our little first-born
ourselves.

As there had been no physician to help, so there was no minister to
comfort, and I could not bear to let our baby leave the world without
leaving any message to a community that sadly needed it. His little
message to us had been love, so I selected a chapter from John and we
had a funeral service, at which all our neighbors for thirty miles
around were present. So you see, our union is sealed by love and
welded by a great sorrow.

Little Jamie was the first little Stewart. God has given me two more
precious little sons. The old sorrow is not so keen now. I can bear to
tell you about it, but I never could before. When you think of me, you
must think of me as one who is truly happy. It is true, I want a great
many things I haven't got, but I don't want them enough to be
discontented and not enjoy the many blessings that are mine. I have my
home among the blue mountains, my healthy, well-formed children, my
clean, honest husband, my kind, gentle milk cows, my garden which I
make myself. I have loads and loads of flowers which I tend myself.
There are lots of chickens, turkeys, and pigs which are my own special
care. I have some slow old gentle horses and an old wagon. I can load
up the kiddies and go where I please any time. I have the best, kindest
neighbors and I have my dear absent friends. Do you wonder I am so
happy? When I think of it all, I wonder how I can crowd all my joy into
one short life. I don't want you to think for one moment that you are
bothering me when I write you. It is a real pleasure to do so. You're
always so good to let me tell you everything. I am on