portrayed so sharply that their meaning could not possibly be mistaken.
This it was that gave the book much of its value. Her thoughts were not
vague, she could define them in her own consciousness, and, what is more
rare, on paper.

So much for the form of the journal, its matter is not so easy to
describe. At first, as might be expected from her years, it was somewhat
childish in character, but not on that account the less sweet and
fragrant of a child's poor heart. Here with stern accuracy were recorded
her little faults of omission and commission--how she had answered
crossly; how she had not done her duty; varied occasionally with short
poems, some copied, some of her own composition, and prayers also of
her making, one or two of them very touching and beautiful. From time
to time, too--indeed this habit clung to her to the last--she introduced
into her diary descriptions of scenery, generally short and detached,
but set there evidently because she wished to preserve a sketch in words
of some sight that had moved her mind.

Here is a brief example describing a scene in Norway, where she was
visiting, as it appeared to her upon some evening in late autumn: "This
afternoon I went out to gather cranberries on the edge of the fir-belt
below the Stead. Beneath me stretched the great moss-swamp, so wide that
I could not discern its borders, and grey as the sea in winter. The wind
blew and in the west the sun was setting, a big, red sun which glowed
like the copper-covered cathedral dome that we saw last week. All about
in the moss stood pools of black, stagnant water with little straggling
bushes growing round them. Under the clouds they were ink, but in the
path of the red light, there they were blood. A man with a large basket
on his back and a long staff in his hand, was walking across the moss
from west to east. The wind tossed his cloak and bent his grey beard as
he threaded his way among the pools. The red light fell upon him also,
and he looked as though he were on fire. Before him, gathering thicker
as the sun sank, were shadows and blackness. He seemed to walk into the
blackness like a man wading into the sea. It swallowed him up; he must
have felt very lonely with no one near him in that immense grey place.
Now he was all gone, except his head that wore a halo of the red light.
He looked like a saint struggling across the world into the Black Gates.
For a minute he stood still, as though he were frightened. Th