
I did not imagine that so many days would have flown by before I informed you of the
great joy that came to us all on the twenty-second of January, when our dear
Grace received the sweet dignity of Motherhood. The baby
came to our world of strife under just such conditions as would rejoice your heart.
Ideal physical conditions, perfect mental and spiritual equilibrium in the pure
hearted Mother, have given the dear little baby girl such a start in life as I wish
were possible for every human being—the little one will surely be a power for
good in the future. Just now however, she makes a noise in the world very similar to
that by which other tiny infants make known their wants. Grace herself is just
lovely, and with her baby by her side, is a subject such as would have inspired a
Raphael. Frances Alma is to be the little one's name. The "Frances" is in honor of
Mama, May, and the eleven year
old Franklin whose birthday is also on the twenty-second.
"Alma" is after dear Mother, of course. The children are all as
proud as can be of the newcomer, and the acme of happiness is reached when allowed
to hold the little mass of "unlocated sensations."

Friday night we had the great pleasure of listening to a fine analysis of the
writings (or rather meaning of the writings) and the influence of Thomas Paine. The
lecturer was Edward King, the Little Giant. Moncure R.
Conway, Father, George Francis
Train and others spoke afterwards. Mr. King laid
special emphasis on the fact that Paine, spite of his iconoclastic flaws was
constructive, sympathetic rather than destructive. That his aim was to replace
superstition with a religion based on facts that are to be deduced from ever present
phenomena of the physical and moral worlds. The courage and steadfastness of the
man, shown by his taking a stand in opposition to his friends even, when conscience
required it, were dwelt upon. And oh, to think of our ungrateful country! I wonder if
there is a school history in the country that gives the least hint of what we owe to
the efforts of Thomas Paine in behalf of the liberties of man. I am sorry I have
no newspaper clippings
to send you—Mr. Traubel too would have greatly enjoyed
the evening as he is an admirer of Paine. I hope he reached Camden alive. New York
must seem to him a very inhospitable place for his train was run into just as the
city was reached and when he left, it was after a very slim breakfast.
We see Emma Frag Jenks quite often. She is like a bit of sunshine, and her husband is a fine young fellow. What we particularly appreciate in him is that on Tuesday nights he is willing to have her attend our Society for Political Study and then at ten o'clock he comes after her, which every young husband might not be willing to do. She does such pretty work in water-colors—.
I wish you could have a glimpse of our boys' playroom. At first glance it is
"confusion worse confounded" but when viewed in detail
it resolves itself
into four little domains—Harold's, Franklin's,
Calder's and Edwin's. At one
time soldiers strew the battle-fields—again the tooting of the locomotive is
heard, or the shouts of Stanley and his men—as
they plunge through Darkest Africa—and the agonies those small boys endure if
perchance a rustling skirt should ruin a little settlement.
Mother has just read me some words of John Swinton taken from to-day's Sun in which he recalls a day spent with you in the hospitals and expresses his appreciation of all you were to your beloved soldiers—
All send much love—
Affectionately Yours, Bertha Johnston.
