Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe

My dear, dear Georgiana,--Only think how long it is since I have written to you, and how changed I am since then — the mother of three children! Well, if I have not kept the reckoning of old times, let this last circumstance prove my apology, for I have been hand, heart, and head full since I saw you.

Now, to-day, for example, I'll tell you what I had on my mind from dawn to dewy eve. In the first place I waked about half after four and thought, “Bless me, how light it is! I must get out of bed and rap to wake up Mina, for breakfast must be had at six o'clock this morning.” So out of bed I jump and seize the tongs and pound, pound, pound over poor Mina's sleepy head, charitably allowing her about half an hour to get waked up in,--that being the quantum of time that it takes me,--or used to. Well, then baby wakes — qua, qua, qua, so I give him his breakfast, dozing meanwhile and soliloquizing as follows:

“Now I must not forget to tell Mr. Stowe about the starch and dried apples ”-doze--“ah, um, dear me! why does n't Mina get up? I don't hear her,” --doze --“a, umm,--I wonder if Mina has soap enough! I think there were two bars left on Saturday” --doze again — I wake again. “Dear me, broad daylight! I must get up and go down and see if Mina is getting breakfast.” Up I jump and up wakes baby. “Now, little boy, be good and let mother dress, because she is in a hurry.” I get my frock half on and baby by that