"I Hate to Write"

I hate to write! Nevertheless, I have undertaken to jot down a few items once in a while just to help cure myself of forgetfulness to which I am getting very prone. I suppose I ought not to forget the weather therefore I duly chronicle that it has been a most beautiful day, rather warmer than we expect at this time of year. Sunday was Paul’s birthday – he was seven – and duly enjoyed his presents, among them a nice toy cannon - demolished before the day was over – and his birthday cake with seven candles in it which he had at supper, only as Lucy observed, the friends at his party were all so young. There was Aunt’s Lillie and Tessie and Marie Bechet, Lucy’s friend and May Hannelly besides the family and I guess they were all old women but May. Today Mattie and little Marian came over and spent the day and Lillie came bright and early from her new boarding house where she spent the night in a rocking chair - the bed being tenanted by undesirable guests. It must have been my visiting day for Mrs. James McCormick called in the afternoon looking very fine in her lace cap and black bombazine dress and then came Mr. Meade, John’s teacher called. Tessie dropped in to supper and Lillie came afterwards and Charlie Hannelly and little Edgar. This Frank’s first year at the kindergarten and Paul’s first year in “John’s” school and I am kept busy trotting back and forth with them all. The city is full of mourning emblems for our noble President McKinley who was foully assassinated by an anarchist named Czolosz while shaking hands with the crowd at the Pan- American Expo at Buffalo. He lingered a week and just as the whole nation was beginning to be confident of his recovery, he died.