[Boston—Wednesday, 11 March 1868]

Wednesday. River nearly freed from ice, and Spring seemingly at our doors. The change is delicious. Was out of doors three hours & a half yesterday taking out poor Mrs. Andrew. I think she will learn to live but I fear it will be by putting her grief out of sight instead of holding it, her cross forever high up before her vision. Poor child! All we can say is she was not made so—and what God may finally evolve from us by suffering we can never predicate, especially of others.

J. went to the church meeting without me last night, good boy. The truth is I was tired. Longfellow has the night-mare about going to Europe. He has been in several days about it of late but he & J. both look upon it with horror.

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