"Amelia's mother never talks so to her!" I said."She praises her, and tells her what a comfort she is to her.But just as I am trying as hard as I can to be good, and making resolutions, and all that, you scold me and discourage me!"Mother's voice was very soft and gentle as she asked, "Do you call this 'scolding,' my child?""And I don't like to be called conceited," I went on."I know I am perfectly horrid, and I am just as unhappy as I can be.""I am very sorry for you, dear," mother replied."But you must bear with me.Other people will see your faults, but only your mother will have the courage to speak of them.Now go to your own room, and wipe away the traces of your tears that the rest of the family may not know that you have been crying on your birthday." She kissed me but Idid not kiss her.I really believe Satan himself hindered me.I ran across the hall to my room, slammed the door, and locked myself in.Iwas going to throw myself on the bed and cry till I was sick.Then Ishould look pale and tired, and they would all pity me.I do like so to be pitied! But on the table, by the window, I saw a beautiful new desk in place of the old clumsy thing I had been spattering and spoiling so many years.A little note, full of love, said it was from mother, and begged me to read and reflect upon a few verses of a tastefully bound copy of the Bible, which accompanied it every day of my life."A few verses," she said, "carefully read and pondered, instead of a chapter or two read for mere form's sake." I looked at my desk, which contained exactly what I wanted, plenty of paper, seals, wax and pens.I always use wax.Wafers are vulgar.Then Iopened the Bible at random, and lighted on these words:
"Watch, therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come."There was nothing very cheering in that.I felt a real repugnance to be always on the watch, thinking I might die at any moment.I am sure I am not fit to die.Besides I want to have a good time, with nothing to worry me.I hope I shall live ever so long.Perhaps in the course of forty or fifty years I may get tired of this world and want to leave it.And I hope by that time I shall be a great deal better than I am now, and fit to go to heaven.
I wrote a note to mother on my new desk, and thanked her for it Itold her she was the best mother in the world, and that I was the worst daughter.When it was done I did not like it, and so I wrote another.Then I went down to dinner and felt better.We had such a nice dinner! Everything I liked best was on the table.Mother had not forgotten one of all the dainties I like.Amelia was there too.
Mother had invited her to give me a little surprise.It is bedtime now, and I must say my prayers and go to bed.I have got all chilled through, writing here in the cold.I believe I will say my prayers in bed, just for this once.I do not feel sleepy, but I am sure I ought not to sit up another moment.
JAN.30.-Here I am at my desk once more.There is a fire in my room, and mother is sitting by it, reading.I can't see what book it is, but I have no doubt it is Thomas A Kempis.How she can go on reading it so year after year, I cannot imagine.For my part I like something new.But I must go back to where I left off.
That night when I stopped writing, I hurried to bed as fast as Icould, for I felt cold and tired.I remember saying, "Oh, God, I am ashamed to pray," and then I began to think of all the things that had happened that day, and never knew another thing till the rising bell rang and I found it was morning.I am sure I did not mean to go to sleep.I think now it was wrong for me to be such a coward as to try to say my prayers in bed because of the cold.While I was writing I did not once think how I felt.Well, I jumped up as soon as I heard the bell, but found I had a dreadful pain in my side, and a cough.
Susan says I coughed all night.I remembered then that I had just such a cough and just such a pain the last time I walked in the snow without overshoes.I crept back to bed feeling about as mean as Icould.Mother sent up to know why I did not come down, and I had to own that I was sick.She came up directly looking so anxious! And here I have been shut up ever since; only to day I am sitting up a little.Poor mother has had trouble enough with me; I know I have been cross and unreasonable, and it was all my own fault that I was ill.Another time I will do as mother says.
JAN.31.-How easy it is to make good resolutions, and how easy it is to break them! Just as I had got so far, yesterday, mother spoke for the third time about my exerting myself so much.And just at that moment I fainted away, and she had a great time all alone there with me.I did not realize how long I had been writing, nor how weak Iwas.I do wonder if I shall ever really learn that mother knows more than I do!
Feb.17.-It is more than a month since I took that cold, and here Istill am, shut up in the house.To be sure the doctor lets me go down stairs, but then he won't listen to a word about school.Oh, dear!
All the girls will get ahead of me.
This is Sunday, and everybody has gone to church.I thought I ought to make a good use of the time while they were gone, so I took the Memoir of Henry Martyn, and read a little in that.
I am afraid I am not much like him.Then I knelt down and tried to pray.But my mind was full of all sorts of things, so I thought Iwould wait till I was in a better frame.At noon I disputed with James about the name of an apple.He was very provoking, and said he was thankful he had not got such a temper as I had.I cried, and mother reproved him for teasing me, saying my ill- ness had left me nervous and irritable.James replied that it had left me where it found me, then.I cried a good while, lying on the sofa, and then Ifell asleep.I don't see as I am any the better for this Sunday, it has only made me feel unhappy and out of sorts.I am sure I pray to God to make me better, and why doesn't He?
