Sunday 20th. I have been reading lately a very beautiful book given me by my mother. It is "Characteristics of Women" by Mrs. Jameson. I like it very much. It is a description of Shakespear's Heroines, Portia is my favorite, she was so noble and I liked the Trial scene better than any of Shakespears that I ever read. I think this part is beautiful. 'Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Then if he love he make a swan like end Fading in music.' I think this was a beautiful idea. I passed a pleasant morning in school, translating one of Krummacher's beautiful parables. I find great pleasure in this. I like German better than I do French. I want much to study Italian. I have tried myself several times but cannot manage it without help. I think I should be very happy if I could go to school. I think about it most all the time and when I am in bed I imagine myself in Boston going to Miss Peabody's school with other girls and know that I am learning something. And I think I lead rather too solitary a life. I love to see people. Mother read in the afternoon from Miss Sedgwick's Letters. It was about the Germans. She says they are a very cheerful people and though poor yet they always have a happy smile and cheerful face. That their manners are beautiful. They are so kind and simple. I know I should love them, for I like everything German, except their food, which I think must be horrid, greasy cabbage and sour bread. That seems bad. I should think they are so fond of beautiful things; music, poetry and flowers, that they would not like such stuff. September, 1845. Friday 1st. I walked before breakfast, the sun was bright and there was a cool wind. The lane was full of beautiful flowers and the grass was green and fresh. I had a lovely walk and gathered a bunch of goldenrod, spirian and gerandia. Everything was so beautiful that all my unhappy thoughts of last night flew away. I sometimes have strange feelings, a sort of longing after something I don't know what it is. I have a great many wishes. I spent the day in the usual manner, sewing and studying. In the evening Louisa and I walked through the lane and talked about how we should like to live and dress and imagined all kinds of beautiful things. Sunday 3rd. I sewed all day and mother read from "Miss Sedgwick's Letters." I will write a piece of poetry, as I have nothing very pleasant to write about: "Oh when thy heart is full of fears And the way is dim to Heaven When the sorrow and the sin of years Peace from thy soul has driven Then through the mist of falling tears Look up and be forgiven.