After breakfast, it being my day for dishes, I cleared up the table. At eleven I had my composition lesson. In the afternoon I sewed, read and played. I sewed in the evening and went to bed early. * * * * * Saturday, 10. This morning father and Mr. Lane went to visit the Shakers in Harvard town. I did the chamber work and then worked and made some bread for dinner, and prepared things ready for it. In the afternoon I laid down, it being very warm out, and read in “Devereux” which pleased me very well. It rained hard and steadily for some time. Father and Mr. Lane returned late in the afternoon. They brought home sweet things they had purchased of the Shakers. We played out on the grounds a little while and then I read and went to bed early. * * * * * Sunday, 11. I read until 10 o’clock when we had reading. In the afternoon I read, wrote and had my lessons with Christy. In the evening I received a note from mother accompanied by a roll containing some wafers and some note paper. It was as follows:— * * * * * DEAR ANNA: I send you a little note paper and a few wafers. You have so much to do lately that I cannot expect you to write often to me, but you must not forget that this is a little duty of yours that gives me a great deal of happiness. This last word reminds me of one of father’s beautiful selections to-day. “Happiness is like the bird That broods above its nest And feels beneath its folded wings Life’s dearest and its best.” I am sure I feel as if I could fold my arms around you all, and say from my heart, “Here is my world within my embrace.” Let us try, dear Anna, to make it a good and beautiful world,—that when we are called to leave it we may be fit to join the good and beautiful of another sphere. All things proclaim In the valley and plain That God is near. Hills, vales and brooks, Sweet words and looks, Cast out all fear. Be the dove of our ark, Dear Anna remark You’re my eldest and best, Now you know all the rest, So farewell dear, God is near, No evil fear, Be happy here. MOTHER. I love to receive letters from mother. She always writes me such dear kind notes. * * * * * Monday, 12.