November 1st, 1861.—School had opened on the first of last month, but, after the trouble which came to us, mother let Miss Sadie go to visit her sister for a while. She came back on the 15th and the other girls have been going to school while I was away. This morning I began again, there are no others in my class so it did not really make much difference. Miss Sadie does not teach Trigonometry, so I have laid that aside until Father feels better and can help me with it. I feel so strange—and the war news hurts me as it never did before. I seem to be looking for bad news all the time. Father says I must try to overcome this feeling, he has given me a poem to learn and I think I shall copy it here:
“Let us try to be happy,
We may if we will,
Find some good in life
To o’er balance the ill.
.
“There are times when
The lightest of spirits must bow
And the sunniest face
Wear a cloud on its brow.
.
“But the deeper our own grief
The greater the need,
To try to be happy
Lest other hearts bleed.
.
“Let us each in all earnestness
Work for the best;
And leave to our God and
Our conscience the rest
.
“Still holding this truth
Both in word and in deed
That who tries to be happy
Is sure to succeed.”
