December 27th, 1865.—Christmas has passed and gone. I shall not try to tell of it; there is too much of pain and sorrow; too much of loss and change to wish to place it on record. No matter how hard we try to be cheerful, the heavy heart is there just the same. We did not invite company for Christmas; of course, our own family were here. Buddy and his wife and children, Brother Junius and Sister Mag and Brother Amos and the dear little ones. They were the only ones who enjoyed Christmas, though all tried to enter into the spirit of the day.
Through Some Eventful Years
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