June 2.—Abbie Clark wrote such a nice piece in my album to-day I am going to write it in my journal. Grandfather says he likes the sentiment as well as any in my book. This is it: “It has been said that the friendship of some people is like our shadow, keeping close by us while the sun shines, deserting us the moment we enter the shade, but think not such is the friendship of Abbie S. Clark.” Abbie and I took supper at Miss Mary Howell’s to-night to see Adele Ives. We had a lovely time.
Tuesday.—General Tom Thumb was in town to-day and everybody who wanted to see him could go to Bemis Hall. Twenty-five cents for old people, and 10 cents for children, but we could see him for nothing when he drove around town. He had a little carriage and two little bits of ponies and a little boy with a high silk hat on, for the driver. He sat inside the coach but we could see him looking out. We went to the hall in the afternoon and the man who brought him stood by him and looked like a giant and told us all about him. Then he asked Tom Thumb to make a speech and stood him upon the table. He told all the ladies he would give them a kiss if they would come up and buy his picture. Some of them did.
Friday, July.—I have not kept a journal for two weeks because we have been away visiting. Anna and I had an invitation to go to Utica to visit Rev. and Mrs. Brandigee. He is rector of Grace Episcopal church there and his wife used to belong to Father’s church in Morristown, N. J. Her name was Miss Condict. Rev. Mr. Stowe was going to Hamilton College at Clinton, so he said he would take us to Utica. We had a lovely time. The corner stone of the church was laid while we were there and Bishop De Lancey came and stayed with us at Mr. Brandigee’s. He is a very nice man and likes children. One morning they had muffins for breakfast and Anna asked if they were ragamuffins. Mr. Brandigee said, “Yes, they are made of rags and brown paper,” but we knew he was just joking. When we came away Mrs. Brandigee gave me a prayer book and Anna a vase, but she didn’t like it and said she should tell Mrs. Brandigee she wanted a prayer book too, so I had to change with her. When we came home Mr. Brandigee put us in care of the conductor. There was a fine soldier looking man in the car with us and we thought it was his wife with him. He wore a blue coat and brass buttons, and some one said his name was Custer and that he was a West Point cadet and belonged to the regular army. I told Anna she had better behave or he would see her, but she would go out and stand on the platform until the conductor told her not to. I pulled her dress and looked very stern at her and motioned toward Mr. Custer, but it did not seem to have any impression on her. I saw Mr. Custer smile once because my words had no effect. I was glad when we got to Canandaigua. I heard some one say that Dr. Jewett was at the depôt to take Mr. Custer and his wife to his house, but I only saw Grandfather coming after us. He said, “Well, girls, you have been and you have got back,” but I could see that he was glad to have us at home again, even if we are “troublesome comforts,” as he sometimes says.
July 4.—Barnum’s circus was in town to-day and if Grandmother had not seen the pictures on the hand bills I think she would have let us go. She said it was all right to look at the creatures God had made but she did not think He ever intended that women should go only half dressed and stand up and ride on horses bare back, or jump through hoops in the air. So we could not go. We saw the street parade though and heard the band play and saw the men and women in a chariot, all dressed so fine, and we saw a big elephant and a little one and a camel with an awful hump on his back, and we could hear the lion roar in the cage, as they went by. It must have been nice to see them close to and probably we will some day.
| Grandmother’s Rocking Chair | “The Grandfather Clock” |
August 8.—Grandfather has given me his whole set of Waverley novels and his whole set of Shakespeare’s plays, and has ordered Mr. Jahn, the cabinetmaker, to make me a black walnut bookcase, with glass doors and three deep drawers underneath, with brass handles. He is so good. Anna says perhaps he thinks I am going to be married and go to housekeeping some day. Well, perhaps he does. Stranger things have happened. “Barkis is willin’,” and I always like to please Grandfather. I have just read David Copperfield and was so interested I could not leave it alone till I finished it.
September 1.—Anna and I have been in Litchfield, Conn., at Father’s school for boys. It is kept in the old Beecher house, where Dr. Lyman Beecher lived. We went up into the attic, which is light and airy, where they say he used to write his famous sermons. James is one of the teachers and he came for us. We went to Farmington and saw all the Cowles families, as they are our cousins. Then we drove by the Charter Oak and saw all there is left of it. It was blown down last year but the stump is fenced around. In Hartford we visited Gallaudet’s Institution for the deaf and dumb and went to the historical rooms, where we saw some of George Washington’s clothes and his watch and his penknife, but we did not see his little hatchet. We stayed two weeks in New York and vicinity before we came home. Uncle Edward took us to Christie’s Minstrels and the Hippodrome, so we saw all the things we missed seeing when the circus was here in town. Grandmother seemed surprised when we told her, but she didn’t say much because she was so glad to have us at home again. Anna said we ought to bring a present to Grandfather and Grandmother, for she read one time about some children who went away and came back grown up and brought home “busts of the old philosophers for the sitting-room,” so as we saw some busts of George Washington and Benjamin Franklin in plaster of paris we bought them, for they look almost like marble and Grandfather and Grandmother like them. Speaking of busts reminds me of a conundrum I heard while I was gone. “How do we know that Poe’s Raven was a dissipated bird? Because he was all night on a bust.” Grandfather took us down to the bank to see how he had it made over while we were gone. We asked him why he had a beehive hanging out for a sign and he said, “Bees store their honey in the summer for winter use and men ought to store their money against a rainy day.” He has a swing door to the bank with “Push” on it. He said he saw a man studying it one day and finally looking up he spelled p-u-s-h, push (and pronounced it like mush). “What does that mean?” Grandfather showed him what it meant and he thought it was very convenient. He was about as thick-headed as the man who saw some snuffers and asked what they were for and when told to snuff the candle with, he immediately snuffed the candle with his fingers and put it in the snuffers and said, “Law sakes, how handy!” Grandmother really laughed when she read this in the paper.
September.—Mrs. Martin, of Albany, is visiting Aunt Ann, and she brought Grandmother a fine fish that was caught in the Atlantic Ocean. We went over and asked her to come to dinner to-morrow and help eat it and she said if it did not rain pitchforks she would come, so I think we may expect her. Her granddaughter, Hattie Blanchard, has come here to go to the seminary and will live with Aunt Ann. She is a very pretty girl. Mary Field came over this morning and we went down street together. Grandfather went with us to Mr. Nat Gorham’s store, as he is selling off at cost, and got Grandmother and me each a new pair of kid gloves. Hers are black and mine are green. Hers cost six shillings and mine cost five shillings and six pence; very cheap for such nice ones. Grandmother let Anna have six little girls here to supper to-night: Louisa Field, Hattie Paddock, Helen Coy, Martha Densmore, Emma Wheeler and Alice Jewett. We had a splendid supper and then we played cards. I do not mean regular cards, mercy no! Grandfather thinks those kind are contagious or outrageous or something dreadful and never keeps them in the house. Grandmother said they found a pack once, when the hired man’s room was cleaned, and they went into the fire pretty quick. The kind we played was just “Dr. Busby,” and another “The Old Soldier and His Dog.” There are counters with them, and if you don’t have the card called for you have to pay one into the pool. It is real fun. They all said they had a very nice time, indeed, when they bade Grandmother good-night, and said: “Mrs. Beals, you must let Carrie and Anna come and see us some time,” and she said she would. I think it is nice to have company.
Christmas.—Grandfather and Grandmother do not care much about making Christmas presents. They say, when they were young no one observed Christmas or New Years, but they always kept Thanksgiving day. Our cousins, the Fields and Carrs, gave us several presents and Uncle Edward sent us a basket full from New York by express. Aunt Ann gave me one of the Lucy books and a Franconia story book and to Anna, “The Child’s Book on Repentance.” When Anna saw the title, she whispered to me and said if she had done anything she was sorry for she was willing to be forgiven. I am afraid she will never read hers but I will lend her mine. Miss Lucy Ellen Guernsey, of Rochester, gave me “Christmas Earnings” and wrote in it, “Carrie C. Richards with the love of the author.” I think that is very nice. Anna and I were chattering like two magpies to-day, and a man came in to talk to Grandfather on business. He told us in an undertone that children should be seen and not heard. After he had gone I saw Anna watching him a long time till he was only a speck in the distance and I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing it because it was a sign if you watched persons out of sight you would never see them again. She does not seem to have a very forgiving spirit, but you can’t always tell.
Mr. William Wood, the venerable philanthropist of whom Canandaigua has been justly proud for many years, is dead. I have preserved this poem, written by Mrs. George Willson in his honor: