Thursday. Sept. 22d.
The Jackdaw has torn one of the leaves of my Heynes Homer, the Homer which Mr. Boyd gave to me on his birthday. And why did he tear it? Because Georgie ventured to take the book into the schoolroom, & without asking my leave. Georgie was scolded of course. I had the philosophy not to cry.
Well! I have tried with gum & Ann & philosophy to make the best of the torn leaf. If it had but been a book which Mr. Boyd did not give me!--
I heard Storm & Georgie double reading lessons of fifty lines each, out of Homer & Euripides, on account of their idleness yesterday: and for my own study, I have been reading Isocrates—his panegyricus still!—
A letter from Papa to me! Very kind & very cheerful—but he has not heard yet from Sam! I wish he had heard, or could hear!— Not a word of the Hope End business; & Bummy & Henrietta augur most favorably from this silence. I am a μαντις κακων[1]. At least I think that if any happy change of circumstance had taken place, Papa wd. have told us of it; and I think it is foolish to look so exclusively at the bright side that our eyes are blinded to the darker side there our way may lead! May lead! That is putting it in the softest language. Probability says, will lead.
Mr. & Mrs. Martin called here today—& I was called down to them. Mrs. M. said, she hoped that I was recovered from my real and imaginary fatigue. I answered that there was nothing imaginary in my fatigue, but I was recovered.
This has been Bummy’s report. Not kind in her; but I will take no notice of it. It is not worth either irritating or being irritated about. Sam H & A rode to Gt Malvern in the evening.
1. “Prophet of ill.”
