Today new scenes in our domestic relations have occurred. We now assume in addition to husband and wife, that of parents. Dear and responsible title. Yet we may never hear the sweet sound emanate from those feeble infantile lips just emerged into life. If it should survive, it must be from Him who created all things, together with all the assiduity we can bestow. Weak, feeble, and trembling, see its hurried and irregular respiration. Seems as the slightest breeze would arrest in a moment.
New feelings, new ideas, new sources of anxiety begin to develop then under every new occurrence. And from one of this nature, probably more than any other. How uncertain may all fond hopes end. We may look or think of years yet to come, and anticipate, hope, and wish that each may add new sources of pleasure and profit, yet we see nothing of thousand snares and vicissitudes and obstacles that may lie concealed to blast at once or in regular succession all our fondest hopes and accelerate the moment of grief. How many parents have repented and their grey hairs been brought in sorrow to the grave from the impropriety of children. And again how many have rejoiced and their old age been made peaceable and happy by the goodness and help from the same source. Such is the course and uncertainty of the future days. We must enjoy from anticipation and be cheered on by hope.
Today at eleven o'clock, Henry Clinton Wilson was born. He is weak and of feeble frame, and probability now is against his surviving. His pulse is weak and intermittent to an extent I have never before met with. Appears to be in continual pain. Sally Flynt, aunt of my wife's, stayed with us during the night. We received much assistance from her goodness, which will long be remembered. From her he received the first nutriment and assistance. My wife is quite weak and feeble and overanxious about the welfare of her child. The day is cloudy and cold. Finally I have a variety of sensations of opposing elements, but hope they may be reconciled.