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Dec. 7th 1890. Sunday.

We walked to church.  Sermon on what one man was, what one little life among so many was.

Baby has been in bed two days now with a cold so I spent all my odd minutes in the morning and almost the entire afternoon with her. Towards evening Papa was rather troubled

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about her cough and sent for Dr Mac Lane.

I had not seen him yet this year, and after he had seen baby, he came down into the library where we were.

He is awfully nice, just lovely and he laughed and talked to us for quite a while. He said the upper part of my face was just like Aunt Florences and then said it was nice to look like her to which


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