This morning Goliah said he wanted to get off early as Jean was to be baptized.
"Where?" I asked eagerly.
"Rite een de ribber, up to Belside."
"Oh," I said, "wait a minute; I must send her some things," and upstairs I flew and turned my bureau drawers topsyturvy and found a complete outfit, a white lawn skirt which is one of my prime favorites, having a deep flounce around it, a white lawn shirt-waist, collar, and belt.
Poor, forlorn Jean, whose life I saved three years ago when she seemed a certain victim to tuberculosis—and poor thing, I sometimes wonder if I did her a kindness, so undisciplined and unfaithful to every duty does she seem. And now to hear of her being about to step into the river and wash away her sins!
I was greatly excited, and with trembling hands, for fear I would not get them to her in time, I put up the parcel and sent Goliah off at a full run.
July 28.
Another perfect morning. I read last evening an article on efficiency which dwelt upon the necessity of relaxing, not pushing on, nerves and muscles taut and strained all the time. That is my snare. I was much impressed and determined to relax to-day and take a complete rest at noon. I carried out my intention and relaxed, with the result I never braced up again! Never was able to do a thing for the rest of the day.
July 29.
Had a very trying day—not money enough to pay off the hands in full, and that always demoralizes me. I went down in the field to examine the work. I always walk now, since reading an account of a visit to the work on the Panama Canal, the writer having been nearly killed by the length and rapidity of the walk, Col. Goethals saying, "If one wants to keep well in this climate he must walk." Since then I make it a point to walk a mile every day.