earns for love and sympathy. I do bless and praise my God for all
His goodness to me in this respect, for my _many_ tender and faithful
and devoted friends. Part of the day I spent in arranging shells in my
cabinet of drawers. This afternoon I went to Mr. Prentiss' library and
obtained Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature.

_Monday Morning._--Have been trying to rouse myself to write Lessing,
but can not. It looks so little. When it is all done, what will it
amount to? Why, I shall get a few dollars for mother, which will go to
buy bread and butter--and that's the end of it.

_Evening._--S. W. and M. W. made a call on us and the former played and
sang. Then we sat up till after eleven naming each of our acquaintances
after some flower. _Aug. 8th_,--Oh, what a happy half hour I had last
evening, looking at the sky after sunset! We went down to the water--it
was smooth as a crystal lake. The horizon was all in a glow--the
softest, mellowest, warmest glow, and above dark, heavy clouds of
every variety of form--the clouds and the glow alike reflected in the
answering heaven below--I was almost _too_ happy; but--it _faded_.
_Evening_.--I had something to wake me up this afternoon, viz., the
arrival of the July No. of the New York Review, containing "Claudius."
This led to some conversation about writing, its pecuniary
profitableness, subjects for it, etc. Julia wished I would take some
other topics besides German authors, but when I told her the alternative
would be metaphysics, she laughed and retracted the wish. We then
laughed over several schemes such as these--that one of us should write
a review and another make the book for it afterward; that I should
review some book which did not exist and give professed extracts from
it, etc. Soon after Mrs. D. came in and began to talk about "Undine,"
which she and her husband have just been reading--the new translation.
I was amused at their opinion of it. The most absurd, ridiculous story,
she said--with no _rationality_, nothing that one can _understand_ in
it--and so on, showing that she had not the slightest idea of a work of
fancy merely. I have been wishing, as I often do, for some records of my
past life. What could I not give for a daily journal as minute as this,
beginning from my childhood! My past life is mostly a blank to me. _Aug.
15th_.--I am beginning to see dimly some new truths--such I believe
them to be--in theology. I am inclined to think, but do