not building up on the hope of seeing you before your time much as I would desire it; in ten days you will have but five months to serve, that don't seem very long, if your life is only spared, what a happy meeting it will be.  If I don't get that school in Ann Deans district I will go to Austins.  I question if it would not be better for me to go there any way, as I have a great deal to do to get ready for house keeping.  I have a rag carpet to get ready for the weaver.  They have given up building up their barn, so that there will be so much hard labor to perform, and they are so anxious for me to come.  You will I fear think me very fickle, but they have made very different arraingements about their work, which has caused me to change my mind, as I wrote you before, I want to take care of my health, and save my strength, to expend it in my own service.  Father got the letter you sent to Nevada, they were very much pleased to get it, and will answer it after they move.  Emma was up to town yesterday, and went to Mr Birds to dinner.  Empson told her that Capt Hoxie had got home lately and that he had seen Cyrus very lately.  He told Em that he was disabled, that he could not ride, and seemed delicate about telling her about it, but said he was not dangerous.  I will go up the first day I can get a chance and see the Capt myself.  I hope it is nothing serious.  A week ago yesterday drove Kit up to Desmoines, and she got so stiff that she could hardly get home, and the next morning could hardly get up. she has been better and wores since at times, father thinks if she can get along till she has her colt, she may get over it.  Bert they say is a very fine, showy horse, but small, this winter David never drove him from hom but he was asked if he was for sale.  My poney is a very spirited little thing, is larger than the other ponies, but is as wild as a deer.  I have not heard anything from Stuart in reference to that box.  Austin was down this morning and said he would write to you today.  Emma says you must not complain of your friends not writing to you when you don't answer their letters.  I tell them all that I know you are very busy.  I hope you will be paid soon, so that I can have some money to prepare for house keeping with.  I presume we will have to go into that old log cabin where Miner lived, Austin has reserved that, I feel like I would be willing to live any place, to have you at home again, O, my dear husband! how I do long for your society although I am generally cheerful, I miss you O, so much!  You know it's not my disposition to grieve all the time.  You are nevertheless dearer to me every day, and I am trying to school my self to cheerfulness, and forbearance
