CHAPTER XXVIII.
December 25th .-- Last Christmas I was a bride, with a heart overflowing with present bliss, and full of ardent hopes for the future, though not unmingled with foreboding fears.

Now I am a wife: my bliss is sobered, but not destroyed; my hopes diminished, but not departed; my fears increased, but not yet thoroughly confirmed; and, thank heaven, I am a mother too.

God has sent me a soul to educate for heaven, and give me a new and calmer bliss, and stronger hopes to comfort me.
Dec.

25th, 1823 .-- Another year is gone.

My little Arthur lives and thrives.