* * * To-day is the Ludwigstag, a day kept throughout the country, and on which every Ludwig receives presents, etc.; but we spend it quite quietly. Louis’ parents and the others are coming to breakfast, and remain during the day. Louis is out riding. We always get up early. He rides whilst I write, and we then walk together and breakfast somewhere out of doors.
We went to the little church here yesterday, which is very old, and they sang so well.
I drew out of doors also, as it was very fine; but it is very difficult, as it is all green, and the trees are my misfortune, as I draw them so badly. I play sometimes with Christa[20]; she plays very well.
With a heavy heart do I take up my pen to write to you to-day--this dear day, now so sad, save through its bright recollections. I cannot bear to think of it now, with no one to bring our wishes to, with that painful silence where such mirth and gaiety used to be. It is very hard to bear, and the first anniversary is like the commencement of a new epoch in our deep sorrow.
When your dear present was brought to me this morning, I could not take my eyes from it, though they were blinded with tears. Oh, those beautiful, those loved features! There wants but his kind look and word to make the picture alive! Thousand thanks for it, dear Mama.
How trying this day will be for you! My thoughts are constantly with you, and I envy the privilege the others have in being near you and being able to do the least thing for you.
The sun shines brightly in the still blue sky; how bright and peaceful it must be where our dear Spirit dwells, if it is already so beautiful here.
* * * Two days ago Louis and I went to Worms. Whilst he went to his regiment, which the Grand Duke came to inspect, I went to the Dom, which is most beautiful; and then went in a little boat on the Rhine, which was charming. It took us, driving, an hour and a half from Auerbach to Worms.
* * * For Louis’ birthday we are going to Darmstadt; it is getting cold and damp here, and the house is small. We take our meals in another house, and it is cold to walk over there of an evening. Think of us on the 12th. It was such a happy day last year.[21]
I have such _Heimweh_ [yearning] after beloved Papa; it is dreadful sometimes when I think of him and of our home. But he is so happy in his bright home, could we but catch a glimpse of him there. Dear Grandmama [the Duchess of Kent], too, is constantly in my thoughts lately. I can see her before me--so dear, kind, and merry. As time goes on, such things only mingle themselves more vividly with one’s usual life; for it is their _life_ which is nearest us again, and not their _death_, which casts such a gloom over their remembrance.