Sumter, S. C.
Dec. 20, 1867

My Dear Fuller,

Did I tell you that I had received a box of toys from home for my children's Christmas tree? This week I received another, larger, & fuller, but similar in character from Cambridgeport. It relieves me of a great anxiety --namely, lest I should not have enough things to "go round." Now I am in no doubt, and am resolved to have just the best time that ever was. The children as I told you are learning "Speeches" as they call it, to recite on the occasion; they have written for Mr. Whittemore to be here and I shall invite some "best friends" to be present. They are almost wild with excitement and their anxiety to see the box is soul-harrowing. They are coming here tomorrow to rehearse their "speeches" and I expect a rare display of histrionic power. Don't you wish you could be here to witness it?

My box contained ever so much besides toys; there were three books especially, directed to myself. One of them was a diamond "Whittier," a book I have long wanted. The others were Howells's "Venice" and Phebe Crey's poems. I have hardly had time to look at any of them yet, but expect during the holidays to enjoy them very much. Don't you wish you could see my Christmas tree and the crowd of little black faces and bright eyes that will gaze upon the unwonted sight. "All turning upward like a sheet of buns" I long to see it myself. We shall sing--oh, how we shall sing! You won't know what noise means till you hear some hundred of these children sing.

Don't talk to me of cold weather for you can't tell me anything. I never began to be as cold in N.E. as I am every other day here. Just take what you call a moderately cold day--glass 40° & the wind blowing--and go into the openest shed you have on your premises and spend the day--not chopping wood for that might keep you warm, but knitting, for instance--doing something that doesn't admit of wearing mittens. Then you may form some idea of the comforts of the Sunny South in winter time.

I will try and write something for your paper as you (very coolly) ask me--sometime. That must be a very remarkable lady who makes you think of me for the reason that she doesn't look like me & isn't like me in anything else & especially is afraid of politics! She ought to take a few seasons of Southern life. You cannot think how happy I am that our Convention is secure to us. But our good staunch Genl. Scott is mustered out of the service and what we still have for a Bureau officer no man knoweth. However, the river sings, you know

"Men may come & men may go
But I flow on forever."

His Accidency has not the powers of nature in his hands.

Please give my love to Mrs. Fisk please.

Yours truly

Jennie B. Smith.