3. It assists the young to acquire and retain knowledge.
4. It cultivates habits of thought and observation.
5. It encourages habits of system and method.
6. It is often of great value in after life, when we wish to recall facts, events, impressions, etc., of earlier years.
7. As a history of one’s life, it must always possess great interest.
Jessie at once procured a small blank book, determined to put the advice in practice at the beginning of the year. Supposing that every book ought to have a title-page, she set apart the first ruled page of her journal for this purpose, and at sundry odd moments inscribed upon it, in the handsomest characters she could make, a title expressive of its object. Jessie was tolerably expert with the pen, and her best efforts with this implement were by no means devoid of merit. But you must not suppose that they were chiefly remarkable for the fantastic shapes of the letters, or elaborate shadings, or fanciful and intricate scrawls, and other frippery. Her taste was rather for the chaste, graceful and simple, than for the grotesque and the tawdry. To illustrate this, I will show you the title-page of her Journal, or rather a fac simile of it, reduced in size, if the printer can imitate it with his types. Here it is:
I suppose the motto which Jessie inscribed upon her title-page will strike some minds as being both too ambitious and too indefinite, to say nothing of its inelegance. To her, however, it had a history and a significance that rendered it quite appropriate for the place. Its history was as follows. There was a girl attending the academy, named Abby Leonard, who came from a distant city, and whose parents were reputed to be very rich. She was fifteen years old, had more and better dresses than any other girl in town, and prided herself on her superior gentility and refinement. She was a sad dunce, it is true, but her ample stock of self-esteem did not seem to suffer in the least from that circumstance, and in spite of it she contrived to wield a pretty potent influence over the other girls of the academy. When Jessie became a pupil, and it was whispered from one to another that she was a scholar of unusual promise, Abby contemptuously remarked:
“Oh, it’s that drunken Hapley’s daughter, isn’t it? I wonder who pays the bills? Well, I don’t think I shall associate with such folks, if they do feel smart. If there’s anything I despise, it’s to see a poor girl all the time trying to be somebody.”
This cruel remark was quickly reported to Jessie, by some well-meaning but inconsiderate friend. Foolish as it was, it entered her sensitive heart like an arrow, and for days and nights she tried in vain to dislodge the poisoned shaft. But at length she was fortunate enough to find a complete antidote for the envenomed wound. She had studied until late in the evening, and on retiring, her wakeful thoughts refused to be composed, and the old ogre which had haunted her of late, returned to torment her. Then she resolutely and calmly said to herself: