“Monday, Dec. 20.—The weather is really dismal. The sun has not shown himself to-day, and it is so cold it is of no use to try to keep warm. I meant to have had an hour for study in the morning, but it was so cloudy and dark that I over-slept myself and lost it. It seems as if the mornings were always cloudy, when the days are shortest. I shall be thankful when they begin to lengthen. How many precious hours I waste abed, when the days are so short! I attended the academy morning and afternoon, and got through tolerably well with all the recitations, though I thought I should break down in grammar. I do wish I could take more interest in grammar, but I don’t think I shall ever like it. I suppose it is a necessary study, but I think it is the dryest and hardest one we have. I wore my new plaid winter dress to school, to-day, for the first time. The girls all think it is pretty, and so do I. I fixed my hair in a new way, this morning, which I think becomes me much better than the old way though John laughed at it until he got me almost angry. I wonder that father will let that boy plague me so. After tea I spent two hours in trying to learn my history lesson, but did not get it perfectly, after all. I think it is too bad to give us such long lessons. Two pages and a half, full of hard names, is enough to try anybody’s patience. I got sleepy over it, and went to bed at nine o’clock.
“Tuesday, Dec. 21.—We have had a pleasant day, at last, but such a cold one! I ought to have got up early, and looked over my history lesson again, but it was so awful cold I dreaded to, and so I laid abed till ma called me to breakfast. Somehow, all my good early-rising resolutions vanish, these cold mornings. I had a terrible time getting to school, and for a while I really thought I had frozen my nose. It actually felt stiff. The academy was so cold, that Mr. Upton let those of us who sit back come forward and gather around the stove to warm ourselves. Then he made all the scholars form a procession, and march around the room half a dozen times, in double quick time, to quicken our blood. I missed once in history, just as I expected, but was marked perfect in all the other recitations. I went over to Sarah Cobb’s and spent the evening. She sent for me to come, as she was going to be alone. We sewed, and talked, and had a good time; but we got terribly frightened, just before the folks got back. We thought we heard steps around the house, for two or three minutes. We listened, and kept hearing strange noises, and knew there must be a man around, but we wondered why he did not knock at the door, if he had come with good intentions. Pretty soon he did knock, sure enough, and such a knock! We thought he was banging at the door with a club. Sarah was frightened out of her wits, and declared she would not go to the door, and so did I. At last she went into the entry, and mustered courage enough to say, ‘Who’s there?’ Nobody answered, but immediately after there were three tremendous raps, louder than the first. Sarah says she thought the door would be broken down the next time, and so she opened it, when behold, there stood old Deacon Melcher, who had come to borrow some spearmint for his wife! The old gentleman is quite infirm, and that is the reason he was so long in getting to the door, after we first heard him; and he is so deaf, that I suppose he does not know how loud he knocks at people’s doors with his big cane. But I would not go through such a fright again for a good deal. Mr. Cobb soon returned, and brought me home in his sleigh.
“Wednesday, Dec. 22.—More snow! Oh, dear, I wish it would never snow any more—I am tired of the sight of it. Two or three inches fell this forenoon, and then the sun came out bright. As I was away last evening, I had to get up this morning, and study my geography lesson. Mr. Upton says he wishes us to study at least two hours every day, out of school, and I should think he meant we should, by the long lessons he gives us. I only half got my lesson, before it was time to go to school; but I made out to finish it, before we were called to recite. I was marked perfect in all my lessons, to-day. There is real satisfaction, after all, in being able to give a perfect recitation, if it does cost some labor. I think I have improved some this term, in this respect. As father says I am not going to school after this winter, I must make the best of my advantages, while they last. How thankful I ought to be for them! After dinner, father tackled up Bessy, and took mother, John and me in the sleigh, and carried us to ride. We went about two miles beyond Mr. Clarkson’s mill, on the Dodgeville road, to where Mr. Rogers lives. Father had some business there, but Mr. Rogers was away, and so he did not accomplish anything. We saw Mrs. Rogers’s baby. It is as fat as butter, and is a real cunning little thing; but it was not dressed neatly, at all. It is strange how little taste some people have. Father says looks are of no consequence, if the child is only kept comfortable, but I don’t believe he really means it. He likes to be on the opposition, and get me into an argument. We had a real nice ride, but it was very cold coming home. I do wish I could have a good warm pair of fur mittens—I think I really need them. Father says I might make them myself, but I am sure I never could do it. It took all of two hours to get my philosophy lesson in the evening. Then I had an hour to read the Advertiser. As usual, it was half filled up with politics. I don’t see why they want to publish such dry stuff. But I found two or three good things in it, and a long list of articles advertised for Christmas and New Year’s gifts. How I should like to take my pick from them!”
“There is still another method of keeping a journal,” said Mr. Upton, “which, by way of distinction from the others, we may call a diary in solid measure. I will give you an illustration of it, and we will suppose the young lady to pass through the same scenes that the others record:”
SPECIMEN OF A DIARY—IN SOLID MEASURE.
“Monday, Dec. 20.—Cold and cloudy. I intended to study an hour before going to school, but as usual, these short mornings, I over-slept myself. However, I got through my recitations tolerably well. I got one or two new ideas on grammar, to-day. Mr. Upton says ‘had rather’ is a very vulgar expression, although it is often used by people who ought to know better. ‘I had rather go’—had go—what tense is that? ‘I would rather go,’ is the correct phrase. ‘Had better,’ he says, is also bad grammar. He says he sometimes hears the girls say such a dress or bonnet is ‘tasty,’ but there is no such word—we should say tasteful. I studied my history lesson two hours in the evening, but did not quite master it. I was tired and sleepy, and I am afraid I did not apply my mind very closely to it.
“Tuesday, Dec. 21.—Pleasant, but the coldest day yet, this winter. Thermometer 3° below zero, at sunrise. The almanac says ‘winter commences’ to-day, and I should think it did, in good earnest. This is the shortest day of the year, the sun having reached its greatest southern declination. Mr. Upton explained it to us, this morning. I was perfect in all my recitations except history, in which I missed one question. It is strange how we go on mispronouncing words for a long time, without discovering our error. Our history lesson to-day had a good deal to say about magna charta, the great charter of liberty which the English barons compelled King John to sign; and it turned out that only two in the class knew how to pronounce charta. I always supposed the ch should be pronounced as in chart, but it seems they have the sound of k. Distich is another word that I never knew how to pronounce until to-day. It occurred in our reading lesson, this morning, and I pronounced the ch as in stitch; but Mr. Upton corrected me, and told me to call it distick. I could not believe he was right, until I looked into the large dictionary. I wish I could learn as easily as some of the scholars do. While we were reciting history, several of us missed, and Mr. Upton asked us if we had studied two hours out of school, according to the rule. By-and-by he came to Jerry Hall, who recited so well that Mr. Upton said, ‘There’s a boy that has studied his two hours, I am very certain.’ ‘No, sir, I didn’t,’ said Jerry, ‘I only read it over twice; that’s all that I ever study my history lessons.’ And yet I spent two hours over it, and did not learn it perfectly, even then. I stayed with Sarah Cobb in the evening, as she was alone. When the family got back, Mr. C. brought me home in his sleigh.
“Wednesday, Dec. 22.—A little more snow fell in the forenoon, but the afternoon was pleasant. I got up early and studied an hour, before school-time. My recitations were all perfect. After dinner, father took us all to ride. We went as far as Mr. Rogers’s house, on the Dodgeville road. We stopped there, and warmed ourselves, and on the whole, had a pleasant time. I noticed that the snow-birds were very plenty and lively, this afternoon. Father says that is a sign of a storm. These birds are not the same as the little chipping sparrows that are around here in summer. I always supposed they were the same, but father says it is a mistake. He says the snow-birds go to the Arctic regions in the spring, and breed, and do not come back again till winter. I studied a philosophy lesson, in the evening, about two Lours, and then read the ‘Advertiser’ till bed-time.”
After giving these illustrations of the different methods of journalizing, Mr. Upton said any one of them was better than no diary, but there was a marked difference in their value. No. 1, he said, was dry, bare, and uninteresting—a mere skeleton; useful, it is true, but not half so useful as it might be. No. 2 was too wordy, and recorded too many trivial things, and dealt too much in moral reflections that seemed to be lugged in for effect. It was quite a tax on one’s time and patience to keep such a journal, and perseverance in so serious an undertaking was almost too much to expect. No. 3 came nearer to the true idea of a diary, which should be a register of daily observations as well as occurrences—a record of ideas as well as events. This was the system, “solid measure,” which he recommended; and it was this that Jessie took as her model, when she began the experiment of keeping a journal.