What a nice rain! Glorious! It is too dark commence writing, with any idea of finishing before tea, but as Mother told me to-day, I should go to bed earlier, I must write a little at any rate now—let me see—After tea Wednesday evening Mr Graham called out to see us—he came late, and did not go ‘til ½ 12. I was sleepy, & did not feel much like entertaining any one—Thursday morning was up late, spent the morning working—received note asking me to take tea with her (from Mary Haywood) I could not accept, as I had sent Mirina word the night before, I was coming to spend the evening with her—I went about dark—spent quite a pleasant evening. Messrs Stevenson, Tucker, Saunders, and Graham (of course) were there also—I left about 11—Mirina after great persuasion, gave me her journal to read. She is so good, at least I believe to strives to do what she thinks her duty—how I wish I was good, one thing, new to me I found out by it—I never had heard it spoken of before—she half way promised me her daguerreotype, how much I would like to have it—after I left then last night, Mr Tucker who came home with me, we stopped at Cousin Mary Haywoods, not intending to stay long, but after we go there, found them all dancing, and did not get home ‘til 2—as to sleep, I could not—O, how badly I felt—my thoughts kept turning to one thing, and that thought drove sleep from my eyes—I have been expecting a letter for the last night or so, and had to bear the disappointment, as best I can, how I hope I may receive one to-night, I was going to say but the rain will prevent Fountaine from going to the office—I fear very much I will not hear to-morrow—Today I have spent at home, at nothing much—This morning Messrs C. Graham, Stevenson, and W. Saunders called—I wrote Marina a short note returning her journal and wrote another one to Annie Grimes—how I want to see her—I have felt quite sick, and badly all day think I came very near fainting, fell down the steps, and my head has been very “giddy” and I now feel rather sick—but I will stop for supper is nearly ready—I rode down town with the children, this evening, Grandmama and I will go to Shocco next week I expect I don’t know any better than I did before. I wrote to Annie whether she would like to see me—as she did not send me word—don’t know that I shall go before, I leave for Shocco—Fountain has gone to the office, and now if I am disappointed. O me! At night no letter, how sad I feel—I will try to bear it, I pray God That no harm has happen'd. If to-morrow nights mail should again fail—to-night I see by the Raleigh paper the Cholera is raging in Louisville, and along the Mississippi & Ohio rivers—I feared it, but O! Who can tell how I felt when I saw that it was time—how miserably I feel, and must continue to until I hear—and O! May it be good news—besides feeling sad, and wretched—I am actually sick—I fear very much I shall have to keep my bed to-morrow, but wish to rise early, and devote part of the day, to a pleasant task—a sad good night to my journal—may I at least have pleasant dreams, when I do sleep, but I fear that will not be soon—I received a letter from Jennie Jones to-night, I fancy (it may be, and I hope it is without foundation) that she does not love me as she once did, and does not care to receive my letters “over much” if I was only sure it was not altogether fancy, I would very soon ease her of the unpleasant task—but I will not write more about her—may be it is looking on the dark side and feeling so sad makes me think so—I must off to bed—