Mrs. Parsons's notice of her Thanksgiving
predicament caused just a laugh, and then one or two sighs (I told you
we were growing sentimental!). We did talk some of keeping it
(Thanksgiving), but perhaps we should all have felt something of the
text, "How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?" Your
praises of Aunt Esther I read twice in an audible voice, as the
children made some noise the first time. I think I detected a visible
blush, though she found at that time a great deal to do in spreading
bread and butter for James, and shuffling his plate; and, indeed, it
was rather a vehement attack on her humility, since it gave her at
least "angelic perfection," if not "Adamic" (to use Methodist
technics). Jamie began his Sunday-school career yesterday. The
superintendent asked him how old he was. "I'm four years old now, and
when _it snows very hard_ I shall be five," he answered. I have
just been trying to make him interpret his meaning; but he says, "Oh,
I said so because I could not think of anything else to say." By the
by, Mary, speaking of the temptations of cities, I have much
solicitude on Jamie's account lest he should form improper intimacies,
for yesterday or day before we saw him parading by the house with his
arm over the neck of a great hog, apparently on the most amicable
terms possible; and the other day he actually got upon the back of
one, and rode some distance.
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