ue?
I read my fate with serious eye;
I see dear hopes and treasures fly,
Behold thee on thy opening wing
Now grief, now joy, now sorrow bring.
God grant me grace my course to run
With one blest prayer--_His_ will be done.

A little journal kept by her during the following months gives bright
glimpses of her daily life. The entries are very brief, but they show
that while devoted to the school, she also spent a good deal of time
among her books, kept up a lively correspondence with absent friends,
and contributed her full share to the entertainment of the household by
"holding soirees" in her room, "reading to the girls," writing stories
for them, and helping to "play goose" and other games.

_To Miss Anna S. Prentiss, Richmond, Feb. 22, 1843._

Thanks to the Father of his Country for choosing to be born in Virginia!
for it gives us a holiday, and I can write to you, dearest of Annas. You
don't know how delighted I was to get your long-watched-for letter.
You very kindly express the wish that you could bear some of my school
drudgery with me. I would not give you that, but you should have love
from some of these warm-hearted damsels, which would make you happy even
in the midst of toil and vexation. I can't think what makes my scholars
love me so. I'm sure it is a gift for which I should be grateful, as
coming from the same source with all the other blessings which are about
me. I believe my way of governing is a more fatiguing one than that
of scolding, fretting, and punishing. There is a little bit of a tie
between each of these hearts and mine--and the least mistake on my part
severs it forever; so I have to be exceedingly careful what I do and
say. This keeps me in a constant state of excitement and makes my pulse
fly rather faster than, as a pulse arrived at years of discretion, it
ought to do. I come out of school so happy, though half tired to death,
wishing I were better, and hoping I shall become so; for the more my
scholars love me, the more I am ashamed that I am not the pink of
perfection they seem to fancy me.

_Evening._--I have just come up here to my lonely room (which, if I
hadn't the happiest kind of a heart in the world, would look right
gloomy) and have read for the third time your dear, good letter, and all
I wish is that I could tell you how I love you, and how angry I am with
myself that I did not know and love you sooner. It seems so odd that we
should have been born and "raised"