Stepping Heavenward | Page 6

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 I would 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 I fell 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?
Feb. 20.-It has been quite a mild day for the season, and the doctor said
I might drive out. I enjoyed getting the air very much. I feel just well as
ever, and long to get back to school. I think God has been very good to
me in making me well again, and wish I loved Him better. But, oh, I
am not sure I do love Him! I hate to own it to myself, and to write it
down here, but I will. I do not love to pray. I am always eager to get it
over with and out of the way so as to have leisure to enjoy myself. I
mean that this is usually so. This morning I cried a good deal while I
was on my knees, and felt sorry for my quick temper and all my bad
ways. If I always felt so, perhaps praying would not be such a task. I
wish I knew whether anybody exactly as bad as I am ever got to heaven
at last. I have read ever so many memoirs, and they were all about
people who were too good to live, and so died; or else went on a
mission. I am not at all like any of them.
March 26.-I have been so busy that I have not said much to you, you
poor old journal, you, have I? Somehow I have been behaving quite
nicely lately. Everything has gone on exactly to my mind. Mother has

not found fault with me once, and father has praised my drawings and
seemed proud of me. He says he shall not tell me what my teachers say
of me lest it should make me vain. And once or twice when he has met
me singing and frisking about the house he has kissed me and called
me his dear little Flibbertigibbet, if that's the way to spell it. When he
says that I know he is very fond of me. We are all very happy together
when nothing goes wrong. In the long evenings we all sit around the
table with our books and our work, and one of us reads aloud. Mother
chooses the book and takes her turn in reading. She reads beautifully.
Of course the readings do not begin till the lessons are all learned. As
to me, my lessons just take no time at all. I have only to read them over
once, and there they are. So I have a good deal of time to read, and I
devour all the poetry I can get hold of. I would rather read "Pollok's
Course of Time" than read nothing at all.
APRIL 2.-There are three of mother's friends living near us, each
having lots of little children. It is perfectly ridiculous how much those
creatures are sick. They send for mother if so much as a pimple comes
out on one of their faces. When I have children I don't mean to have
such goings on. I shall be careful about what they eat, and keep them
from getting cold, and they will keep well of their own accord. Mrs.
Jones has just sent for mother to see her Tommy. It was so provoking. I
had coaxed her into letting me have a black silk apron; they are all the
fashion now, embroidered in floss silk. I had drawn a lovely vine for
mine entirely out of my own head, and mother was going to arrange the
pattern for me when that message came, and she had to go. I don't
believe anything ails the child! a great chubby thing!
April 3.-Poor Mrs. Jones! Her dear little Tommy is dead! I stayed at
home from school to-day and had all the other children here to get them
out of their mother's way. How dreadfully she