pg 037

Saturday, 23d December, 1843

Our rainstorm has turned to snow this morning. It falls quite rapidly, covering every thing with its beautifull fleece. Mild as spring.
We all lingered in our beds, no school, stage, to urge us from our pillow. Holiday for two weeks will get us all in bad habits.
I did not rest well, Remmys cough disturbed my sleep. Gave him oil before breakfast.
Commissioned G. to perform St Claus in my place, he does not like the appointment, haveing already procured beautifull presents for the New Year.
This snow storm will prevent Mother from takeing tea with us as she intended, it is all for the best as next week we can have a pleasanter meeting. Then I will strive to collect a family party, if possible.
Bridget cleaned my hair, it has combed out so much, that but one half remains. Visions of a wig are not very agreable. G’s old one lies at my service.

Sunday, 24th December, 1843
Storm over, mild but damp air.

I could not go out, fearing to wet my feet. G. and children remained within doors also. The former reading aloud the Life of Cicero. I slept an hour on the sofa and think if gave me a cold, as I have reason to repent my [“siesta”] a week after.
Christmas eve, the children went early to bed in anticipation of their presents on the morrow. They did not hang up stockings, thinking them too small to contain their treasures.