and domestic cares, had so exhausted Margaret's energy, in
1844, that she felt a craving for fresh interests, and resolved to
seek an entire change of scene amid freer fields of action.

'The tax on my mind is such,' she writes,

'and I am so unwell, that I can scarcely keep up the spring of
my spirits, and sometimes fear that I cannot go through with
the engagements of the winter. But I have never stopped yet
in fulfilling what I have undertaken, and hope I shall not be
compelled to now. How farcical seems the preparation needed to
gain a few moments' life; yet just so the plant works all the
year round for a few days' flower.'

But in brighter mood she says, again:--

'I congratulate myself that I persisted, against every
persuasion, in doing all I could last winter; for now I am and
shall be free from debt, and I look on the position of debtor
with a dread worthy of some respectable Dutch burgomaster.
My little plans for others, too, have succeeded; our small
household is well arranged, and all goes smoothly as a
wheel turns round. Mother, moreover, has learned not to
be over-anxious when I suffer, so that I am not obliged to
suppress my feelings when it is best to yield to them. Thus,
having more calmness, I feel often that a sweet serenity is
breathed through every trifling duty. I am truly grateful for
being enabled to fulfil obligations which to some might seem
humble, but which to me are sacred.'

And in mid-summer comes this pleasant picture:--

'Every day, I rose and attended to the many little calls which
are always on me, and which have been more of late. Then,
about eleven, I would sit down to write, at my window, close
to which is the apple-tree, lately full of blossoms, and now
of yellow birds. Opposite me was Del Sarto's Madonna; behind
me Silenus, holding in his arms the infant Pan. I felt very
content with my pen, my daily bouquet, and my yellow birds.
About five I would go out and walk till dark; then would
arrive my proofs, like crabbed old guardians, coming to tea
every night. So passed each day. The 23d of May, my birth-day,
about one o'clock, I wrote the last line of my little book;[A]
then I went to Mount Auburn, and walked gently among the
graves.'

As the brothers had now left college, and had entered or were entering
upon professional and commercial lif