how much of communion with Heaven is known to their own hearts.  Is it not true that those who talk most, go most to meetings, run hither and thither to all sorts of societies and all sorts of readings—­is it not true that such people would not find peace and contentment—­yes, blessedness of blessedness—­in solitary hours when to the Searcher of hearts alone are known their aspirations and their love?  I do not know, I am puzzled; but I may say here, where nobody will ever see it, what I do think, and I say it to my own heart as well as over the hearts of others—­there is not enough of real, true communion with God, not enough nearness to Him, not enough heart-searching before Him; and too much parade and bustle and noise in doing His work on earth.  Oh, I do not know exactly what I mean—­but since I have heard so many apparently Christian people own that of this sense of nearness to God they know absolutely nothing—­that they pray because it is their habit without the least expectation of meeting the great yet loving Father in their closets—­since I have heard this I am troubled and perplexed.  Why, is it not indeed true that the Christian believer, God’s own adopted, chosen, beloved child, may speak face to face with his Father, humbly, reverently, yet as a man talketh with his friend?  Is it not true?  Do not I know that it is so?  Oh, I sometimes want the wisdom of an angel that I may not be thus disturbed and wearied.

14th.—­Now either Miss ——­’s religion is wrong and mine right, or else it’s just the other way.  I wrote some verses, funny ones, and sent her to-day, and she returned for answer that verse in Proverbs about vinegar on nitre, and seemed distressed that I ever had such worldly and funny thoughts.  I told her I should like her better if she ever had any but solemn ones, whence we rushed into a discussion about proprieties and I maintained that a mind was not in a state of religious health, if it could not safely indulge in thoughts funny as funny could be.  She shook her head and looked as glum as she could, and I’m really sorry that I vexed her righteous soul, though I’m sure I feel funny ever so much of the time, can not help saying funny things and cutting up capers now and then.  I’ll take care not to marry a glum man, anyhow; not that I want my future lord and master to be a teller of stories, a wit, or a particularly funny man—­but he shan’t wear a long face and make me wear a long one, though he may be as pious as the day is long and must be, what’s more.  Oh, my!  I don’t think I was so very naughty.  I saw Miss ——­ laughing privately at these same verses, and she rushed in to Mrs. P. and read them to her, and then copied them for her aunt and paid twenty-five cents postage on the letter.  I should like to know how she dared waste so much time in unholy employments!  As I was saying, and am always thinking, it’s rather queer that people are so oddly different in their ideas of religion.  Heaven forbid I should trifle with serious and holy thoughts of my head and heart—­but if my religion is worth a straw, such verse-writing will not disturb it.