1866.1 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
31 
with miki moralities about the beauty of simplicity, and 
the sin of vanity ; which silence witliout satisfying her, 
and leave me self-reproached for preaching what I would 
not practice, except through necessity. 
MAY. 
A most tinhappy record to-day. Came down to break¬ 
fast, worried and irritable, and found Arthur holding a 
young canary bird in his hand. “ Look, mother,” he ex¬ 
claimed eagerly. “Harry Warren has given me this 
dear little bird; his mother let me choose the prettiest 
one in the nest.” “ Ami what are you going to do with 
it ?” I asked impatiently, some evil spirit making his 
happy excitement utterly distasteful tome. “Why, keep 
it, of course. You’ll get a cage for it, papa, won’t you ? 
I’ve wished for a binl so long and his imploring look 
at me should have been enough to dispel the hateful feel¬ 
ing. But not so. 1 answered hastily : “No such thing. 
Your father cannot afford to buy cages, while so many 
things are more needed. Carry the bird back again ; I 
can’t be bothered vr ith it.” Almost before the speech was 
ended, I had repented. But it was too late then to recall 
It. Arthur was too proud to remonstrate, and without a 
word marched out of the room, coming back no more. 
My husband gave me one look—that was all. The meal 
passed in miserable silence ; the day has gone by as 
wretchedly ; Arthur avoided me in proud resentment— 
my own conscience my sorest punishment. 
Spent the afternoon shopping on Broadway and Canal 
street. Getting into the stage, tired and heated, my 
hands full of small parcels, and my spirits dejected in the 
recollection of how much money 1 had spent, and how 
little 1 had to show for it, I encountered Mi s. Bright, and 
two of her children, all three looking provokingly like 
their name ! They were dressed so charmingly in the 
freshest of spring attire, and had been to the Academy of 
Design. “ Had I visited the Exhibition this year? Was 
I not delighted w'ith those lovely girl-faces of Wentler’s? 
those delicious little landscapes of Shaltuck’s ? ” and so 
on, and so on, till I felt more dejected than ever in my 
painful consciousness of a contrast, not to my advantage, 
that Mrs. Bright’s presence always forces on me. She 
takes life easily. 1 wish 1 had her secret. * * * 
Poor Ellie gone to bed in tears. She and her doll were 
Invited to Helen Bright’s birthday party, but the doll— 
significantly named Flora McFlimsey—had, like her 
namesake, “ nothing to wear.” Ellie would not go with¬ 
out her, and I feel self-reproached for her disappoint¬ 
ment. I ought to have dressed her doll long ago; but 
how can I, with so many human dolls wanting dresses ? 
JUEY. 
Bridget’s evening out,- and I took her place in the nurs 
ery, to guard the sleeping children. A feeling, half lu¬ 
dicrous, half pitiful, look possesion of me as I sat there 
sewing ; a wish that I was servant instead of mistress, 
that I might have the privilege of at least one evening in 
the week to spend as I pleased ! Ridiculous, of course ; 
nevertheless it is painfully true that I do not have as 
much time for recreation as my own servants. 
Third of July, and to-morrow the awful Fourth must 
be endured, with its multiplied miseries of run mad, 
frightened babies, servants “on a rampage,” etc., etc. 
Wish 1 could have escaped into the country, as Mrs. 
Bright did ; but, alas 1 there is a mountain of sewing to 
be leveled before I can attain to the breezy hills and shady 
woods that I sigh for. * * * 
Baby grows thin and fretful—the heat seems unusual¬ 
ly oppre.ssive this summer—and his father is very im¬ 
patient to get the children out of town. “ How long be¬ 
fore you can be ready?” he asks almost daily. lam 
straining every nerve to get through the necessary work, 
but it will be August before the children can be ready. 
AUGUST. 
Out of town at last through much tribulation. My 
husband declared that the children must wait no longer 
if they went without clothes ; so packed up what remain¬ 
ed of my work to finish in the country and started off 
yesterday. The journey very unpleasant, owing to heat 
and intolerable crowding; but our boarding-house pro¬ 
mises to be comfortable, and the country around Is 
beautiful, with ample range for the children. Found (to 
my advantage) that Mrs. Bright and her children had 
been here since the 1st of July, and was a favorite in the 
house. Under her direction much more attention was 
paid me than I should otherwise have received, and in 
many ways she has been exceedingly kind. I remember 
(to my shame !) that I have sometimes had uncharitable 
thoughts about her. * * * 
' There is a remedy, we are told, for every evil under 
the sun. Mrs. Bright asserts, with encouraging confi¬ 
dence, that a Wheeler Wilson is the remedy in my case. 
I have seen for myself how easily her household Caies 
sit upon her. 1 have also seen that her children are not 
neglected, as I once imagined. If a sewing machine is 
as etflcient a helper as her experience seems to prove 
what price would be too dear to pay for it ? 
SEPTEMBEIS.. 
Have tested an idea which came to me some time ago, 
and found it worthy of record. It was simply to suggest 
for Alice a permanent instead of temporary interest in 
the little orphan Jessie, and show her how to turn it to 
good account. Which I did accordingly ; and it is now 
one of her chief interests to work for little “ Jet.” She 
saves her pocket-money to buy books, or playthings, or 
small articles of dress for her, and gives up many of her 
play-hours to sewing for her. What -she can do is of 
course nothing very important in itself, but 1 encourage 
it for its influence upon her own character, and see al¬ 
ready the good effects. Her sense of responsibility makes 
her thoughtful and vvomarily ; and where before she was 
rather inclined to self-indulgence, this new interest has 
taught her practical lessons of self-denial. May these be 
only first fruits of a life rich in good works and 
charity. * ♦ * 
Attended a bright little dinner-party last night, at Dr. 
R-’s. Met several celebrities of the pencil and the 
pen, who for once were as enjoyable personally as in 
their books and pictures. 
OCTOBER, 
Celebrated the anniversary of our wedding-day by a 
drive in the park, a stroll down the Lovers’ Walk, and a 
row across the Lake. The day was heavenly, with its 
soft misty sunshine and brilliant .Autumn foliage, and our 
own hearts harmonized with all its loveliness. Thirteen 
years since we were married, and it seems only yester¬ 
day ! But such happy, loving years press lightly. On 
the Lake, floating in one of those fai’y-like skiffs among 
the swans and water-lilies, H-grew poetical, and re¬ 
pealed those four loveliest stanzas of “ The Miller’s 
Daughter 
“ Look into mine eyes w ith thine, true wife ” 
But as for me, I could only think of the sweet old 
hymn, “ When all Thy mercies, O my God !” for one 
verse had been in my mind all day: 
“ Thv bounteous hand with wordly bliss 
Has made my cup run o’er. 
And in a kind and faithful friend 
Has doubled all my store.” 
Paid my annual subscription to the “Association for 
the Relief of the Industrious Poor.” This charily 
especially interests me, because it is based on a sound 
principle—employment furnished to the destitute, and 
full value paid for the labor. Thus self-respect is pre¬ 
served while distress is relieved. 
NOVEMBER. 
Another birthday to be recorded ; not celebrated by a 
doll’s tea-party—Alice is too old for that—but not less 
lovingly commemorated. Her father’s gift was an en¬ 
graving of Ary Scheffer’s “Temptation,” one of a set of 
scriptural subjects which he is collecting for her, and in 
which she fakes great enjoyment. Frank bought her a 
dainty copy of “ The Children’s Garland from the Best 
Poets and my own gift w'as the published record of a 
beautiful life not long since ended, the “ Memorial of 
Alice B. Haven’’—rather mature, for her present age, but 
she will appreciate and, I trust, emulate its sweet lessons 
of faith and charily in after years. * * * 
A busy and pleasant day, spent chiefly in making up on 
my sewing machine a number of garments for Christmas 
distribution amongst the poor. * * * 
An hour at the piano with Frank. It is one of my 
fancies that the influence of music at home and the 
power to produce it themselves, goes a great way toward 
keeping boys out of mischief; so have taken pains to 
teach Frank carefully, as well as Alice, in anticipation 
of the time when we can afford masters. * * * 
DECEMBER. 
A mer y evening with the children, preparing decora¬ 
tions fo. our Christmas tree. The little ones, who still 
keep faith in Santa Claus, were safe in bed, but Frank 
and Alice assisted gleefully in making cocked hats, 
cornucopias, an-J candy boxes, and even papa conde¬ 
scended to lend a helping hand. We adhere religiously 
to all the time-honored observances of Christmas ; en¬ 
deavoring to make it not only a merry hollda',, but a 
special occasion for inculcating by precept and example 
the sacred lessons of Him who came to bring “peace on 
earth, good-will to men.” •* * * 
Packed and sent away the usual “ Christmas boxes”— 
a gown for Widow McCaulay, a basket of groceries for 
Mary O’Neil, a doll for little motherless Janie Thomp¬ 
son, and other such simple offerings. With the longing 
in my heart to do so much more, this encourages me : 
“ A cup of cold water only shall not lose its rewa'-d.” 
To-day brings the close of the year marked with fewer 
cares than blessings ; and the last page of my diary, not 
always faithful in recounting them. Let the final record 
at least be one of thankful acknowledgment for the 
“ Unnumbered comforts” that have surrounded me. Also, 
a prayer for the “ calm and thankful heart ” that is free 
alike frorh “ murmurs ” and “ vain confidence,” 
SEPTEITIRER. 
Have discussed the sewing-machine idea with my 
husband, and find, to my satisfaction, that he heartily ap¬ 
proves of it. A little economy in other expenditures vv ill 
enable us to purchase one, and my heart is already 
lightened, in anticipation of the burden of Fall work. 
For the last week, at least, I will give myself up to the 
full enjoyment of these lovely September days, with 
their misty skies and faintly turning leaves. I will roam 
the fields with the children, in search of wild grapes, 
take swimming lessons in the river, join “ crabbing par¬ 
ties,” and “bob for eelsl” Also, I will explore the 
windings and hidden springs of that laughing brook in 
the woods, and in some green nook, with rippling water 
and murmuring leaves about me, 1 w ill read Jean Inge- 
low’s poems. Who can tell? Perhaps the time is com¬ 
ing when I shall have leisure to read when I please. Just 
now, an idle hour with a volume of poems seems the 
rarest luxury. * • * 
Home again, and the burden of household cares drop 
ped for a while, must be taken up once more. Fall sew¬ 
ing, fall house-cleaning, pickling and preserving ; send¬ 
ing the children to school, and getting settled generally ' 
But I bring to the task new energy—boon of rest and hope. 
OCTOBER. 
The important purchase has been made, and I am real 
ly the owner of a sewing-m.achine. I walk around it 
with a sort of awe, fingering the mysteiious hooks and 
gauges, and wondering shall 1 ever comprehend and 
m.ake available its delicate mechanism ! Mrs. Bright as¬ 
sures me that I shall, under the careful instructions fur¬ 
nished by Messrs. Wheeler & Wilson. I go this morning 
to their beautiful rooms on Broadway for my first lesson. 
Gave Arthur for his birthday a present which will make 
him forget my unkindness about the canary-bird. It was, 
in fact, the same bird, which I took pains to obtain, and 
for which I bought a pretty cage ; denying myself a new 
pair of gloves that I need in order to do so. A small 
enough sacrifice to atone for my fault! Hung up the 
cage in the dining-room window, and laid a little note on 
Arthur’s plate, signifying his ownership. The quick 
tears in his eyes, the warm color flushing his brow when 
he read it, expressed everything without words. I knew 
that he understood alt I mean by the gift; and his look 
of loving gratitude made me able, fov the first time, to 
forgive myself. 
NOVEMBER. 
Fall sewing almost done ; thanks to my invaluable sew 
ing-machine. It has been all that I hoped—more than 1 
dared to anticipate—in the way of assistance : and, indi¬ 
rectly, other advantages flow from it. My husband looks 
up with a smile when I take my seat after dinner ; “ Not 
quite so exclusive as you used to be ! ” And the chil¬ 
dren ; “ Oh ! mamma sits down stairs every evening 
now. Isn’t it a great deal nicer, papa ? ” It is pleasant 
to feel that my presence is the attraction for all of them; 
and I inwardly resolved that it shall not be lacking in 
future. I will “use all diligence” to retain and perfect the 
family reunion, not forgetting to be thankful for the op¬ 
portunity to do so. ♦ 
Played and sang with the children this evening while 
they practised some Christmas carols for their Sunday 
school concert. Looked over my shoulder—hearing a 
manly base suddenly in the “ Three Kings of Orient,” 
and met ray husband’s eyes, with a look in them that 
said : “ This is what I like.” So prolonged our rehears¬ 
al till the children’s bed-time ; and finished the evening 
with a game of chess, in which I had the satisfaction of 
checkmating him—purely by accident, as he conceitedly 
declared. 
DECEMBER. 
A couplet from Stoddart’s charming version of “ The 
Children in the Wood” has flitted threugh my brain 
all day; 
“And leaf by leaf the rose of youth 
Came back to Lady Jane.” 
Truly I am younger as well as happier, now that the 
weight of a forever-unfimshed task is iifted tiom me. I 
shall never cease to be grateful to Mrs. Bright for intro 
ducing me to her “ household fairy.” It has proved to 
me more than that—a household angel. * * *. 
“ Merrle Christmas” is at hand once more, and all 
hearts are attuned to its gladness. The children are full 
of important secrets. Mamma has hers also , among 
them a marvelously-dressed doll that will gladden Ella’s 
heart, and a braided dress that will satisfy Annie’s wild¬ 
est desires. Suspicious-looking parcels are smuggled in 
to the house from time to time, showing that papa has 
his little mystery, too, and I think I shall not much long 
er covet that copy of “ Melodies and Madrigals!” We 
do not forget, either, these little children of God in whose 
homes no Christmas-trees grow. Our good cheer shall 
be shared with them, for His sake who said, “ inasmuch 
as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye har-e ,done it 
unto me.” 
