Wednesday. 16 April. /1851. 19 Charlton St N.Y.

A storm of rain; and high winds
Our showers came in gusts
and make us think of angry spirits, rushing on the blasts.
I am decidedly in need of medicine, as my mouth and
head inform me. Bilious affection which requires attention.
Rhubarb root, and oranges will not effect a cure, but I dread
to take any thing more powerfull. When one complaint
departs, another comes to take its place, it seems my destiny
never to be free from some thorn in the flesh. To bear cheer-
fully, and in secret my troubles, has been my endeavor, for who
can sympathize with me or feel what I feel. Not one!!
I finished my sewing, put the commode in order and
then sat down to read “Lavengno”. Think it very silly.
Remsen came home from school, the boil discharged on his neck.
It is not full grown yet; I think he will suffer still more.
My head heavy , went to bed and slept one hour & 1 / 2
Do not feel so chilly by day, as at night.
Soup for dinner, but I dare not indulge my appetite.
G. went to bed after dinner. The boys took their books.
Julia transcribed her composition on Judea, in her book.
I wrote this journal, for a reference in years to come.
Was affected yesterday, reading the journal of 1840.
Eleven years have passed away, Remsen, then an infant- one
year old, is now a large boy; a scholar of Latin and French.
My three babies at that time, have now out grown their mother.
The loss of my fourth child*, a little girl, my painful
sickness, and the peculiar sorrows of that period, come back
fresh to my memory. How I wish it could have been spared
to us, how we would value the gift, but then our selfish fears,
reconciled us to its death.
*Refers to a five and a half month miscarriage Julia had on May 19, 1840.