[She never got it.--L. M. A.]

Write a sentence about anything. "I hope it will rain; the garden needs it."

What are the elements of _hope_? Expectation, desire, faith.

What are the elements in _wish_? Desire.

What is the difference between faith and hope? "Faith can believe without seeing; hope is not sure, but tries to have faith when it desires."

No. 3.

What are the most valuable kinds of self-denial? Appet.i.te, temper.

How is self-denial of temper known? If I control my temper, I am respectful and gentle, and every one sees it.

What is the result of this self-denial? Every one loves me, and I am happy.

Why use self-denial? For the good of myself and others.

How shall we learn this self-denial? By resolving, and then trying _hard._

What then do you mean to do? To resolve and try.

[Here the record of these lessons ends, and poor little Alcibiades went to work and tried till fifty, but without any very great success, in spite of all the help Socrates and Plato gave her.--L. M. A.]

_Tuesday._--More people coming to live with us; I wish we could be together, and no one else. I don't see who is to clothe and feed us all, when we are so poor now. I was very dismal, and then went to walk and made a poem.

DESPONDENCY.

Silent and sad, When all are glad, And the earth is dressed in flowers; When the gay birds sing Till the forests ring, As they rest in woodland bowers.

Oh, why these tears, And these idle fears For what may come to-morrow?

The birds find food From G.o.d so good, And the flowers know no sorrow.

If He clothes these And the leafy trees, Will He not cherish thee?

Why doubt His care; It is everywhere, Though the way we may not see.

Then why be sad When all are glad, And the world is full of flowers?

With the gay birds sing, Make life all Spring, And smile through the darkest hours.

Louisa Alcott grew up so naturally in a healthy religious atmosphere that she breathed and worked in it without a.n.a.lysis or question. She had not suffered from ecclesiastical tyranny or sectarian bigotry, and needed not to expend any time or strength in combating them. She does not appear to have suffered from doubt or questioning, but to have gone on her way fighting all the real evils that were presented to her, trusting in a sure power of right, and confident of victory.

CONCORD, _Thursday._--I had an early run in the woods before the dew was off the gra.s.s. The moss was like velvet, and as I ran under the arches of yellow and red leaves I sang for joy, my heart was so bright and the world so beautiful. I stopped at the end of the walk and saw the sunshine out over the wide "Virginia meadows."

It seemed like going through a dark life or grave into heaven beyond. A very strange and solemn feeling came over me as I stood there, with no sound but the rustle of the pines, no one near me, and the sun so glorious, as for me alone. It seemed as if I _felt_ G.o.d as I never did before, and I prayed in my heart that I might keep that happy sense of nearness all my life.

[I have, for I most sincerely think that the little girl "got religion" that day in the wood when dear mother Nature led her to G.o.d.--L. M. A., 1885.]

One of Louisa's strongest desires at this time was for a room of her own, where she might have the solitude she craved to dream her dreams and work out her fancies. These sweet little notes and an extract from her journal show how this desire was felt and gratified.

DEAREST MOTHER,--I have tried to be more contented, and I think I have been more so. I have been thinking about my little room, which I suppose I never shall have. I should want to be there about all the time, and I should go there and sing and think.

But I'll be contented With what I have got; Of folly repented, Then sweet is my lot.

From your trying daughter, LOUY.

MY DEAR LOUISA,--Your note gave me so much delight that I cannot close my eyes without first thanking you, dear, for making me so happy, and blessing G.o.d who gave you this tender love for your mother.

I have observed all day your patience with baby, your obedience to me, and your kindness to all.

Go on "trying," my child; G.o.d will give you strength and courage, and help you fill each day with words and deeds of love. I shall lay this on your pillow, put a warm kiss on your lips, and say a little prayer over you in your sleep.

MOTHER.

MY LOUY,--I was grieved at your selfish behavior this morning, but also greatly pleased to find you bore so meekly Father's reproof for it. That is the way, dear; if you find you are wrong, take the discipline sweetly, and do so no more. It is not to be expected that children should always do right; but oh, how lovely to see a child penitent and patient when the pa.s.sion is over.

I thought a little prayer as I looked at you, and said in my heart, "Dear G.o.d, sustain my child in this moment of trial, that no hasty word, no cruel look, no angry action may add to her fault." And you were helped. I know that you will have a happy day after the storm and the gentle shower; keep quiet, read, walk, but do not talk much till all is peace again.

MOTHER.

HILLSIDE, CONCORD.

DEAR,--I am glad you put your heart in the right place; for I am sure all true strength comes from above. Continue to feel that G.o.d is _near_ you, dear child, and He never will forsake you in a weak moment. Write me always when you feel that I can help you; for, though G.o.d is near, Mother never forgets you, and your refuge is her arms.

Patience, dear, will give us content, if nothing else. Be a.s.sured the little room you long for will come, if it is necessary to your peace and well-being. Till then try to be happy with the good things you have. They are many,--more perhaps than we deserve, after our frequent complaints and discontent.

Be cheerful, my Louy, and all will be gayer for your laugh, and all good and lovely things will be given to you when you deserve them.

I am a busy woman, but never can forget the calls of my children.

MOTHER.

DEAREST,--I am sure you have lived very near to G.o.d _to-day_, you have been so good and happy. Let each day be like this, and life will become a sweet song for you and all who love you,--none so much as your

MOTHER.

_Thirteen Years Old._

HILLSIDE.

_March, 1846._--I have at last got the little room I have wanted so long, and am very happy about it. It does me good to be alone, and Mother has made it very pretty and neat for me. My work-basket and desk are by the window, and my closet is full of dried herbs that smell very nice. The door that opens into the garden will be very pretty in summer, and I can run off to the woods when I like.

I have made a plan for my life, as I am in my teens and no more a child. I am old for my age, and don't care much for girl's things. People think I'm wild and queer; but Mother understands and helps me. I have not told any one about my plan; but I'm going to _be_ good. I've made so many resolutions, and written sad notes, and cried over my sins, and it doesn't seem to do any good! Now I'm going to _work really_, for I feel a true desire to improve, and be a help and comfort, not a care and sorrow, to my dear mother.

_Fifteen Years Old._

_Sunday, Oct. 9, 1847._--I have been reading to-day Bettine's correspondence with Goethe.