Roland, yelling for his mother on the top of his voice. She answers from the back, and now ran to him, Roland has picked his "Christmas" tree out of the rubbish limbs that they burn over there, and the mother goes to stand it in a bucket of water. And shall not this be a holier tree than the 75 cents saplings that we have [illegible] heretofore. Hony soi qui mal I pense, and if you should drop in under our Santa Claus coming, you need not bring a cherchief to wipe your tears, my wife shall dry them with the hair of her soul. A few days ago the dear child told his mother he would be satisfied with a tree if she did not have money enough to buy candles. Now He, and He only sends this tree. Oh, I gladly , hungrily eat of the bread of affliction and drink of the water of adversity, for He has delivered my soul from death, and he shall save my feet from falling.As thanks for your trouble, take this twig of our Christmastree, The good wife just took it in, asking "Don't it smell good?" Love to all of you folks from[illegible]
Original letter dimensions: 14 x 21.5 cm.
Reel 14, Image 0700
Copyright status unknown