Gibbie and the oxen.
March 25.
Good Friday. B. and her dear little party arrived safely at 1 o'clock. It had poured all night and part of the morning, so I was anxious about them. The children are lovely, the baby like a sweet flower with her heaven touched blue eyes. Unfortunately their trunks went astray in some way and Dab returned with the wagon empty, except for the baby carriage.
Easter Sunday, March 27.
A beautiful day and charming service. The collection was for missions and our delight was great at finding it was a little over $12. It will pay up our apportionment. I drove our rector to church in Peaceville and then let him have the buckboard and Ruth to go on to St. Peter's, while I came home with my dear little neighbor, who dined with me.
A number of little darkies came to Sunday-school and sang very nicely. Lizette came for the first time. She is about 14, very tall and gawky, but with a good face. She knows not a word of the catechism, while Goliah and the other little ones say their Creed, the Ten Commandments, and that most comprehensive duty to God and duty to one's neighbor, glibly. The Easter hymn which they have been learning for a month, "Christ the Lord is Risen To-day," went beautifully. They left with great speed after receiving a double portion of candy in honor of Easter.
After they had gone, I went out to enjoy the exquisite afternoon, with its rosy golden light, and there at the foot of the steps was a huge snake. I looked for a long pole and killed it after a fight. While I was finding the stick it had got under the house, which made it harder to kill it. It did not seem quite dead and the puppy wanted to play with it, so I went into the yard and got the axe and chopped off its head, and as Prince, who has no country sense, still wanted to get the head, I buried it quite deep, all of which somewhat interfered with my enjoyment of the peace and beauty of the Easter gloaming. It makes one think, when these terrible discords come into the harmonies of a perfect day, must the trail of the serpent creep into everything?
Am I yielding to the temptation of getting too much amusement out of my dusky little scholars? Do I not agonize over them sufficiently? That may well be. It seems so hopeless to reach below the surface, so hard to influence the spirit, the life, by this hour's teaching once a week. Still I must do what I can; I cannot see them follow their blind leaders without making an effort to help them.