, 1876-06-02


your smooth, bright pages, which seem
ever ready to listen and sympatnise with
me. But my time has been so filled up
with study, work and care for those
younger than myself, could not, how
ever much wished, come to you. l
said, pityingly, poor little journal !
but it is l who should be pitied, after
all. True, your home is in hollow
tree, but then, you can look out any time
in the day and see the hmpid waters of
our little brook go pulling by, and you
and L, dear journal, know what beauti-
full stories it is always telling us in its
sweetest tones. And then tho trees, the
ferns, the flowers, the birds-all, all are
so beautiful that cannot but envy you,
my dear journal. came near forget
ting to tell you that school begins to-
morrow, and 1 must bid you good by,
not knowing when can slip away to see
you again.
." Oct. 2nd.-It is night, but I had to
come to you again to pour out my hearts
secrets, or 1 could not sleep. Our new
teacher Ho,o shall ever describe him
to you? He is lean, lank and awkward; !;
his hair and whiskers are dirty-look-
ing red; nose big, and mouth ditto. 1
laughed every time he CHANGED to open
it; could not help doing so-and he
actually reprimanded me for it before
the whole school. 1 know it is sinful,
lso will only just whisper it toyou, lit
tie Journal I hate him!
d" Nou. 15h.-I am back in your COM
pany again. And now, where shall 1 be-
gin? SO many and such strange things
have happened since last looked upon
your pages: In the first place, l will tell
you of the great change in my teacher.
He is so very kind and good to me al
ways, and the other girls are really ieal-
ous of his attentions to me. They say
I'm too quiet and dull. know I'm not
a good conversationahst in their lines of
thought, but he talks to me about books
and natures beauties, and in these sub
jects 1 am at home; for, although child
yet in years, 1 have read much.
"Nov. 28h.-And is this the last time
shall ever sit beside by dear little
brook, where every scene is so familiar
and so dear? 1 fear it is, and tremble
at the thought. VIII this man, who a
few short months ago had never seen,
be true in all his promises to me? I do
not know, and yet have promised to
leave all those that are dear to me for
his sake. And if he should betray me
All, no, will not allow myself to doubt
one who is so noble. Are you not won
der-stricken at this sudden change from
hate to kove2 1 wonder why we must be
secretly married2 Sometimes 1 have
Hv.A -
and, young, though 1 am, l know it
would be dishonorable to recede now.
And then, how could ] do so, when he
is dearer to me than life2 1 can take
very little with me, but my journal shall
not be left.
"Ocf. 10h, 1862.-Almost year since
1 have looked upon your pages. Ten
months replete with happiness, and one
month full Of the blackest, deepest des-
pair. My husbandl Oh, if could only
know that he had been and may still be
an honorable mani The last few weeks
before he left me he seemed to be under
and plead as I might, he would not open
his heart to me. Sometimes when
would come suddenly upon him he
would shudder and turn from me. Oh,
how 1 loved that man. bowed down
before him in joyful humiliation. He
held sway over my very soul. nc
knowledged his supremacy in all things.
Into what q deep gulf have l been
drawnl It is so vast, so deep, that 1 fear
no ray Of hope can ever penetrate its
awful gloom. He whom / loved so
dearly is gone, without even a parung
kissl And this is mans faithfulnessl-
mans truth Well, be it sol he has
gone his way, l can but go minel Oh,
the desolation of that day, when be-
came sure that he had deserted mel 1t
was late in the evening when received
his note bidding me good-by for an in
definite period. / suspected in an in
slant that it was for all time. Oh, if
you could only have seen the despair /
felt, and realized its weird, awful power.
Turn whichever way I would, look in
any direction, all was desolation. The
hills were brown and sad, the seaside
slope was as bare and pitiful as my
poor hopeless heart. All, the memory
of those ten happy monthsI We were
here, there, everywhere; but most of the
time we lived in lovely little cottage
on the shore of beautiful lake, and it
seemed paradise to me. We were often
out upon the water in q light canoe,
sometimes rowing swiftly along, and at
others floating slowly with the tide.
And then again we let the little boat lie
idly near the shore, slowly rocking to
and fro, in the shadow Of the tall pines,
spruce, and hemlock. Birds hung
swinging in the air on the tops of the
lofty trees-beautiful birds Of every
hue, singing in every tone of musical
sweetness; some loud and shrill, some
faint and low, like the ripple of some
far-distant waterfall. Wild lilies were