pg 027Friday.1. st of December. 1843.

A snow storm to commence the winter of 1843.
Dull, wintry sky, air chilling, and full of snow.

The mornings are so dark, we find it difficult
to get all matters arranged by eight, the hour when
stage calls for the children. I do not enjoy my
breakfast, but have only time to get them off.
Julie’s finger very sore this morning, fear her
nail, will come off.
Mr H. rather rheumatic in damp weather, he calls it
old age, but I know it is want of care, and flannel.
He has commenced takeing Lewis & Louis, syrup of sarsaparilla.
But Buckwheat cakes, will not give up to this.
A quiet season of rest, will soon come for him, to
re___t his worn out energies.