Thursday evening at twilight, sitting on the doorstep.
Very hard to get any news into this letter! Judy is becoming sophilosophical of late, that she wishes to discourse largely of theworld in general, instead of descending to the trivial details of dailylife. But if you MUST have news, here it is:
Our nine young pigs waded across the brook and ran away last Tuesday,and only eight came back. We don't want to accuse anyone unjustly, butwe suspect that Widow Dowd has one more than she ought to have.
Mr. Weaver has painted his barn and his two silos a bright pumpkinyellow--a very ugly colour, but he says it will wear.
The Brewers have company this week; Mrs. Brewer's sister and two niecesfrom Ohio.
One of our Rhode Island Reds only brought off three chicks out offifteen eggs. We can't imagine what was the trouble. Rhode islandReds, in my opinion, are a very inferior breed. I prefer BuffOrpingtons.
The new clerk in the post office at Bonnyrigg Four Corners drank everydrop of Jamaica ginger they had in stock--seven dollars' worth--beforehe was discovered.
Old Ira Hatch has rheumatism and can't work any more; he never savedhis money when he was earning good wages, so now he has to live on thetown.
There's to be an ice-cream social at the schoolhouse next Saturdayevening. Come and bring your families.
I have a new hat that I bought for twenty-five cents at the postoffice. This is my latest portrait, on my way to rake the hay.
It's getting too dark to see; anyway, the news is all used up.
Good night, Judy