has more than once nearly deprived me of my 8 o'clock breakfast, my half past dinner I can manage and 6 o'clock tea, no supper, no wine excepting on Saturday night when I indulge in one or two glasses and a few almonds and raisins. The weather has broken although I expect tomorrow will be a fine day. Every Sunday here is remarked as being fine compared with week days. My work is going on favorably and I am most industrious. The word industry reminds me of poor Mama who used to think from the time I spent with you that I must have had little to do. She is now retired from all the perplexing cares of this world and I trust my pussy