
I hope you and your dear Comrade, Dr. Bucke have been able to spend some of the hour of this lovely day, out in the sunshine, together.
It is so delightful to be out of doors in bright weather, but when the streets are wet
and dirty, I long to join the dress reform crusade and I watch the movement at
Chautauqua very anxiously, and wish the ladies of Boston all success, when they make their first
appearance on a rainy Saturday in costume based on common-sense first and beauty
second. Indeed, I almost hear a voice say, "go then and do
likewise," but there is
a saying, "there are none so deaf as those who wont hear," and I
am hard of hearing.
Our household is reunited once more, Harold having returned last Wednesday. He is already taller than I am, though only fourteen. Calder is lighted and happy as can be, while Kittie, whom we begin to call Katherine, is also tall enough to be looked up to by her older sisters.

Father and Mother are away for over Sunday. An old friend persuaded them to run down to his home in New Brunswick and Mother agreed to go on condition that she should not be asked to go to church. The hours in the open air were too precious.
All send love and best wishes—
With ever so much from your funny little friend Bertha Johnston.