casional
business details. In the Spring, the influx of blood relations began again
and continued until Fall. The diary revealed the gradual transformation of
a sunny disposition into a dark one, of a man with gregarious instincts
into a wild beast asking only for solitude. Additions to the house were
chronicled from time to time, with now and then a pathetic comment upon
the futility of the additions.

Once there was this item: "Would go away for ever were it not that this
was my Rebecca's home. Where we had hoped to be so happy, there is now a
great emptiness and unnumbered Relations. How shall I endure Relations?
Still they are all of her blood, though the most gentle blood does seem to
take strange turns."

Again: "Do not think my Rebecca would desire to have all her kin visit her
at once. Still, would do anything for my Rebecca. Have ordered five more
beds."

As the years went by, the bitterness became more and more apparent. Long
before the end, the record was frankly profane, and saddest of all was the
evidence that under the stress of annoyance the great love for "my
Rebecca" was slowly, but surely, becoming tainted. From simple profanity,
Uncle Ebeneezer descended into blasphemous comment, modified at times by
remorseful tenderness toward the dead.

"To-day," he wrote, "under pressure of my questioning, Sister-in-law Fanny
Wood admitted that Rebecca had never invited her to come and see her.
Asked Sister-in-law why she was here. Responded that Rebecca would have
asked her if she had lived. Perhaps others have surmised the same. Fear of
late I may have been unjust to my Rebecca."

Later on, "my Rebecca" was mentioned but rarely. She became "my dear
companion," "my wife," or "my partner." The building of wings and the
purchase of additional beds by this time had become a permanent feature,
though, as the writer admitted, it was "a roundabout way."

"The easiest way would be to turn all out. Forgetting my duty to the
memory of my dear companion, and sore pressed by many annoyances, did turn
out Cousin Betsey Skiles, who forgave me for it without being so
requested, and remained.

"Trains to Judson Centre," he wrote, at one time, "have been most
grievously changed. One arrives just after breakfast, the other at three
in the morning. Do not understand why this is, and anticipate new trouble
from it."

The entries farther on were full of "trouble," being minute and intimate
portrayals of the emotions of one