... The books came through the post-office, with the note separate; they were brought to me while I was having a class recite logic in my room,--the dryest and most distasteful of all subjects to me, but it is a select class, and that makes up for the study. The young ladies who compose it are on quite familiar terms with me, and when the messenger said, “Three books and two letters for Miss Larcom,” their curiosity was greatly excited, and there was so much sly peeping at corners and picking at strings that they were not, on the whole, very _logical_. They asked to hold them for me till I was ready to open them, and I believe in letting “young ladies” act like children while they can.... I was thinking how much I should enjoy a quiet forenoon writing to you, when the words, “Study hour out”--accompanied the clang of the bell, and a Babel of voices broke into the hall outside my door. I am trying not to hear--to get back into the quiet places of thought where your letters, open before me, were leading me, but I cannot; there is a jar, a discord,--and I suppose it is selfish in me not to be willing to be thus disturbed. How I long for a quiet place to live in! I never found a place still enough yet. But all kinds of natural sounds, as winds, waters, and even the crying of a baby, if not _too_ loud and protracted, are not noises to me. Is it right to feel the sound of human voices a great annoyance? One who loved everybody would always enjoy the “music of speech,” I suppose, and would find music where I hear only discord. TO THE SAME. Sabbath evening. ... I read in school yesterday morning, something from the “Sympathy of Christ.” We have had some very naughty girls here, and have had to think of expulsion; but one of them ran away, and so saved us the trouble. How hard it is to judge the erring rightly--Christianly. I am always inclined to be too severe, for the sake of the rest; one corrupt heart that loves to roll its corruption about does so much evil. I do not think that a school like this is the place for evil natures--the family is the place, it seems to me, or even something more solitary. And yet there have been such reforms here, that sometimes I am in doubt. When there is a Christian, sympathizing heart to take the erring home, and care for her as a mother would, that is well. But we are all so busy here, with the _everythings_. I am convinced that I have too much head-employment altogether; I get hardly breathing time for heart and home life....