Spring is again affrighted, and the air blows raw and chilly, nearly taking my tent over, and I am fearful of danger if I venture without its walls.
I have just had some calls, which have shortened the time a little, and a letter over which I have puzzled some little time to divine the author's meaning. The nights are freezing. I have never been so exposed before, and consequently never suffered so much from cold as this winter. Feather beds, downy pillows, easy cushioned chairs, when will you welcome this ease-loving woman to your softness!
I slept cold all night, and thought of the warm chambers and bedrooms leading from the great old-fashioned kitchens, and of the glow of comfort which crept all through them from the unstinted supply of logs at the farmer's door. My feet were like clods, but I set myself resolutely upon them, and made the gruel which I have not failed to do every day since last June.
Many of our men have bad throats, and I must have contracted the disease by sympathy, for mine is so sore I can scarcely swallow. Still I feel it my duty to go out, and think nothing serious will result from it.
The sun shines very pleasantly to-day, and I am myself again, and the men are so comfortable, I have
