January 23.—This evening after reading one of Dickens’ stories I knit awhile on my mittens. I have not had nice ones in a good while. Grandmother cut out the ones that I am wearing of white flannel, bound round the wrist with blue merino. They are not beautiful to be sure, but warm and will answer all purposes until I get some that are better. When I came home from school to-day Mrs. Taylor was here. She noticed how tall I was growing and said she hoped that I was as good as I was tall. A very good wish, I am sure.
Village Life in America
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