LXIX[1]
December 11th, 1903.
MY Dearest, Best Friends:
You do not know with what affection this, my first letter from my new home, is written. A home where, praise God, there is peace and love everywhere, and we are all happy with and through one another.
I regret so deeply that only through the press of circumstances I have not been able to write to you before. Forgive me. The first days were so frightfully hard; then our children were ailing, and at last I felt the reaction from the wearisome days through which we had passed. I was far from well and was obliged to take care of myself. Now I am again fresh and happy. Once more it is the old irresponsible, hare-brained creature of other days, who can look forward to the future with smiling eyes.
Do I have to express myself still more plainly, dearest? I bless the day on which I laid my hand in that of him who was sent by the All- Father to be my comrade in the journey through this great and difiicult life.
Everything that was noble and beautiful in my eyes I find here realized before me. Some of the dreams that I still dream he has carried out years ago, or he dreams them now with me. We are so
- ↑ To Mevrouw and Dr. Abendanon.
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