We are having an awful spell of weather up here, snow-storms & bitter cold ever since Christmas—about the wintriest week I remember take it all through—thermometer down below zero, night & day—But I suppose you know all about it & have had the same—I still keep well & in good trim, thank the Lord—eat my Christmas dinner & spent the evening at the Baptist minister's here, Mr Lung,1 a grand wife, & a big family all home to dinner seven children two grown—had a good time—haven't been out any where else particular for a month—in fact the storms & snow & bad walking keep me weatherbound—rec'd two more letters from Herbert2—he has sent you by mail two big books, the Life of Blake,3 he sent them to me to take to you—they are quite valuable & curious books—I loc_jc.00492_large.jpgthink the first time George or Van or Mont comes up they had better stop here & get them—Herbert also sent me a P.O. order for a small sum, asking me to get something for your children for Christmas—I have not yet cashed it at the P.O.—Mrs G appears to be about well again—
It is now 12½ Sunday—it is moderated, & the sun has come out—my sister has just come home from church—All goes on about as usual here—New Year's day was rather flat, all around, so bleak & cold & deep snow—Still the women are out in their finery, plenty of them—I believe some would parade out in their new bonnets & pretties if it froze their noses off—George, dear friend, how are you getting along this winter?—did you get the new cider—& is any of it left?—I suppose Mont and Van are stout & jolly as ever—have you had any sleigh riding boys?—Susan I sent you a little book & one to Kate—did they come?—I want to see you all but I don't know when I shall come down.
Love to you & George— W W