A YEAR GONE BY - FEBRUARY 1873

A year has gone by and little Jane has grown stronger than I ever thought she would. She was such a little thing. John is the smartest little boy I ever did see.  He can read as good as Dan. He just learned by looking at the Bible that Dan keeps on the table. I wish I could read but I'm too old and my eyes won't let me anyway. Dan reads to me though, from the Bible and sometimes he brings a newspaper home. I like it when he does that, we don't get much news here. I like to know what is going on but I don't guess it matters to me none.

My hands are bad. The cold is hard on them, I can't hardly bend my fingers. Most days there's blood in the creases up past my wrists. Dishwater is hard to keep warm without the pan sitting right on the cook stove but I have to keep a piece away from it to keep the babies from touching it. They hang on my dress tail. I had pretty hands when I was a girl. My mama helped me wrap them up at night with some juice from a plant she raised in the back window. My fingernails were smooth and grew out over the tips of my fingers. I took pride in them but now they are jagged and rough. I work hard. I try to keep up.