It is a dollar a yard. Mrs.
Emerson says that you will find it at Jacobs', on Tremont Street. I
could not refuse my child the luxury of feeling such a material over
its dear little bosom. I have to spend a great deal of time in darning
the small craters in my stockings.
January 21. In the hope of some unoccupied carrier-pigeon's straying
this way, I shall write to-day. The extreme cold freezes the ground,
and my lord will not consent to my putting foot out of doors, so I
remain a singing-bird in my happy cage, endeavoring by walks in the
long upper entry (which is enlivened by sundry winds rushing through a
broken window-pane) to make some amends for being deprived of the
outward world. Yesterday I felt as if I had dieted upon diamonds and
were sparkling with rainbow colors like an icicle in the sun. I
painted upon Endymion. My husband blasphemes the fierce winds and
extreme cold in a very picturesque manner; but the disapprobation he
feels is a moral ope, not a physical discomfort. He cleaves the air
like a Damascus blade, so finely attempered that he is unharmed. I
never knew any person in such fine health as he is; because he is not
obtusely well--he has no brute force; but every part of his frame
seems in perfect diapason, like a bird's. I should be afraid of him
if he were in ferocious health; but his health is heavenly. Endymion
will certainly be finished this week if I remain alive, and the sun
shines. [It is a picture in pale brown monochromes, of the most
remarkable perfection of finish and beauty of draughtsmanship.
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