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pg 91Monday. 18.teenth. April. 1842.
Storming violently, high wind, and cold. A gleam of brighter days at intervals.

We all arose rather lazily this morning. Mr H. felt better, his eyes were not so red. Made our breakfast on Indian cakes, Julie’s favourite dish. I looked as if dry toast, and water, were the only suitable diet, my unfortunate face presenting as usual an unpleasant reflection. Sat down to a shirt, after breakfast. Heard Julie her lessons. She requites a strict hand to keep her in order.
The day passed heavily along, Garret did come up to dinner, and we had finished our evening meal, before he arrived. A press of business detained him, as he had not been off his feet, the day through. Read me a letter from Mr Lee, at Chicago, on business principally.

We made some “new arrangements,” I told, Garret
he should not retract his promises, as my
object was to tease him.
Half pass ten, found us snug in our nest.
We are very punctual in our hours, at night.

The rain was falling in torrents, and no
prospect of a clear day on the morrow, visible.
Simon, cleaned up the wood cellar, and
kitchen pantrys, preparatory to our leaveing,
I do not wish to leave a bad name behind,
and as little dirt as possible.

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