A cold, dark storm of rain, more like spring than the farewell of winter.
This is Garrets “Thirty third” birth day. And as he looks remarkably well, haveing grown quite fleshy, and regained the healthy colour of his youthfull days, I think we may all congratulate him, and wish him to see as many many more happy years as those he has passed. I think he has few draw.backs on his general sun of happiness, altho the cares of business may corrode deeper than I am aware they do, judgeing from the surface of affairs. This rain comes very acceptable to me, as it give me an uninterrupted season, to look over, and settle up my affairs. Put my desks in order, and look over my last years accounts. I like method in all things, even in arraangeing pins on my “pin cushion”’ so does my “best. half.” Straining our honey to.day. Mr H. spent the afternoon, and evening writeing up his books, and I sat quietly by his side, reading the last magazine, full of light literature. In the evening I read “Bishop Onderdonks Charge” showing the implicit faith to be placed in Scriptures, and their superiority over traditional rules which the Romanist hold to be more sacred. We retired at our usual hour to bed, the wind was blowing very hard all the afternoon. G. complained of stiffness in the cords of his leg; he has felt it the past week. We bid farewell to January 1843. Having found it as agreeable companion, and to me peculiarly dear, as the birth month of my husband. May those which still remain to us be as happy as this we are now greeting, never to see it again.