Saturday, 12th January, 1867

Intensely cold, but the sun shines brightly and it’s quite a pretty day. Bill driving the oxcart and hauling wood ready cut, or rather sawed and mulled by Hardie himself and Tom, the right length for the fireplace, nice oak wood. – – I cooked breakfast this morning. Nan finished off a shirt for Bill, and I starched it while in the dining room. – – Pigeo finished hemming the body of a linen chemise for me and sewed up and nearly finished hemming another. I am sad today. It requires a greater effort on my part to control my feelings than I had imagined. I can’t help reverting to the past and recalling those halcyon days when a kind husband exerted himself almost beyond his strength to procure every comfort that could render me happy. – – He had his faults, but I do not see them now. His many virtues seem to throw a mantle over all. I now have to combat the ills of life alone and try very hard to cast away the shadows that so often becloud my pathway, endeavoring at all times to fix my mind upon the prospect in view, which we may only look at mentally, i.e., by the age of Faith, that Faith which is founded upon the testimony of God’s holy work. Our short-sighted visions and narrow mind too often darkens the prospect and makes the present more unbearable.