This was Lizzie’s birthday. I arose before five o’clock and went with mother, William, and Louisa to the woods where we fixed a little pine tree in the ground and hung up all the presents on it. I then made a wreath for all of us of oak leaves. After breakfast we all, except Abraham, marched to the wood. Mr. Lane took his fiddle with him and we sang first. Then father read a parable, and then this ode which he wrote himself. I will write it on the next page. Father then asked me what flower I should give Lizzie on her birthday. I said a rose, the emblem of Love and Purity. Father also chose a rose. Louisa said a Lily-of-the-Valley, or innocence,—Mother said she should give her a Forget-me-not, or remembrance. Christy said the trailing Arbutus, the emblem of perseverance. Mr. Lane gave her a piece of moss, or humility. Abba gave her a Wakerobin. I do not know what that means. We then sang. Lizzie looked at her presents and seemed much pleased. Mother gave her a silk thread balloon, I a fan, Louisa a pin-cushion, William a book, Abba a little pitcher. Mr. Lane wrote some lines of poetry which I will write in here:— TO ELIZABETH Of all the year the sunniest day Appointed for thy birth Is emblem of the longest stay With us upon the earth. Now dressed in flowers The merry hours Fill up the day and night. May your whole life Exempt from strife Shine forth as calm and bright. FRUITLANDS. Here is father’s:— BIRTHDAY ODE I Here in the grove With those we love, In the cool shade Near mede and glade With clover tints ore’laid— A haunt which God ourselves have made— The trees among With leaves are hung. On sylvan plat, On forest mat, Near meadow sweet We take our seat, While all around Swells forth the sound Our happy hearts repeat. The wood and dell Our joy to tell The morning, and Our peace to share, Flows by his cool A balmy school, The Sun his fires His kindled iris Not yet inspires In mid-noon blaze His scorching rays, But all is calm and fresh and clear And all breathes peace around us here. II