The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1878-04-15
The Angels Diary,

Come, satlsiy my culAosi'y Aolen"i'n'
Please tell me-"
IA diary? Why, aunty you don't pre-
tend to say you think that I, who am a
mere butterfly, as they call me, fitting
over fields of pleasure-a humming-bird,
dipping my beak into honied fiowers-any-
thing, in short, but worker, could step
demurely into the line where duty calls,
md recount each day list of my short
comings? No, aunty, it is too much to
expect of me, when dance until daylight,
and then tell mamma was home early and
go all day smiling with headache for my
disobedience-who can never get further
into literary matters than the pages of the
last new novel. Besides, always asso-
ciate diary entries with climbing up rickety
staircases, creaky at every step, and laying
before some emaciated individual sundry
pieces of delicacies accompanied with pious
words. Those who keep diaries wear
smooth hair and plain garments, I could
never do that, and, solemn-eyed, sit close
to the minister on Sundays, pronouncing
audibly the amens."
''rhen, Nellie, you mean to imply that
diaries are necessarily religious?"
"Oh, no, aunty! there are no doubt
others among them-school diaries, for in
stance. fused to keep one which read as
follows: Rose in the morning, ate my
breakfast, went to school, missed my les
sons, etc. But it taught me to be deceit
full, for never wrote about the little love
letters Charlie Fanshaw threw across the
desk to me-nor the big apple George
Goodrich gave me as he drew me home on
his sled"
"Well, Nellie, suppose I tell you Of
young and thoughtless girl like yourself
who once kept diary"
'Do, aunty; for otherwise should have
the blues with this rain pouring down.
How glad am that you were prevented
from returning home to-day, for, truly,
feel just like little child waiting to hear
story"
So aunty drew her easy-chair little
nearer the bright coal fire in the open
CRATE and Nell occupied an ottoman beside
her.
"Well, then, there was once a young
girl who deemed herself quite young lady
although only sixteen. Fannie's mother
would fain have kept her pet and baby a
little longer, but, no, Fannie was an only
child, had possessed unusual advantages,
and now at this early age childhood and
school-days were left fur behind She was
of very lively, happy disposition always
stirring up some new frolic and fun wher-
ever she went. If time hung heavily upon
her hands she would resort to her pen and
ink, of which she was very fond.
IA lovely summer day had passed away
to the sweet music of the birds, chanting
their vesper hymns, and the low warbling
of the brook, the flowers upon whose banks
were nodding peacefully to their reflections
on the silver surface. Their cups were
filed to overfowing with the gentle dew
from heaven, and their hearts were at rest.
Twilight was deepening. The moon had
arisen and shone down with calm radi-
ance through the boughs of the great elms
which surrounded the old homestead On
the grassy lawn could be seen the tall fig
ure of man pacing slowly and sadly up
and down. He had just parted from
Fannie forever. 1t is sad thing when
death separates two loving hearts, but
not nearly SO sad as is the necessary
stern unfinching parting that is self-im.
posed.
'Fannie at eighteen was beautiful but
self-willed woman, vain in her power, and
living on the alteration which was showered
upon her, accepting it as her right. 1t
was not surprising, then, that when the
gifted minister of the parish sued for her
hand she had calmly but firmly refused him
and carelessly passed it by, apparently as
only another victory gained.
"And hep God be merciful to all who
shut out from their lives all the warmth
and sunshine. the beauty and the poetry of
living and with firm tread walk down into
the dark valley alone with no human love
to lean upon.
"He had come stranger into the little
village. A new minister, which implies a
variety of embarrassing and trying situa-
tions, but strong in his resolves TO do his
Minister'S work wherever it might lay.
And Fannie had beheld his dignifed re-
serve, his noble -mindedness, his un-
selfish devotion to his cause, and with a
zeal for which she herself could not &C.
count, had laid siege to conquer his heart
A heartless, silly, unprincipled ooquette
you will say. Perhaps not altogether. Her
life SO far had been given up to an .a!s