[Boston—Thursday, 6 February 1868]

Feb. 6th We are having a few quiet days, they seem like roses and I try to collect my thoughts which had taken wings and left but a few deeds behind. My little chamber is as still as if the world were asleep—the frost has sealed up the bay and snow “covers and conceals” the blackness of the earth. All is pure white and silent. These hours give me time to count my blessings, or since they are too many, to look at my Love and be grateful for all that word means.

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