y Eliza Cook. It begins, "I love it, I love
it, and who shall dare to chide me for loving that old arm chair?" I
love it because it makes me think of Grandmother. After school to-night
Anna and I went downtown to buy a writing book, but we were so cold we
thought we would never get back. Anna said she knew her toes were
frozen. We got as far as Mr. Taylor's gate and she said she could not
get any farther; but I pulled her along, for I could not bear to have
her perish in sight of home. We went to bed about eight o'clock and
slept very nicely indeed, for Grandmother put a good many blankets on
and we were warm.

_January_ 23.--This evening after reading one of Dickens' stories I
knit awhile on my mittens. I have not had nice ones in a good while.
Grandmother cut out the ones that I am wearing of white flannel, bound
round the wrist with blue merino. They are not beautiful to be sure, but
warm and will answer all purposes until I get some that are better. When
I came home from school to-day Mrs. Taylor was here. She noticed how
tall I was growing and said she hoped that I was as good as I was tall.
A very good wish, I am sure.

_Sunday, January_ 29.--Mr. Daggett preached this morning from the text,
Deut. 8: 2: "And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God
led thee." It is ten years to-day since Mr. Daggett came to our church,
and he told how many deaths there had been, and how many baptisms, and
how many members had been added to the church. It was a very interesting
sermon, and everybody hoped Mr. Daggett would stay here ten years more,
or twenty, or thirty, or always. He is the only minister that I ever
had, and I don't ever want any other. We never could have any one with
such a voice as Mr. Daggett's, or such beautiful eyes. Then he has such
good sermons, and always selects the hymns we like best, and reads them
in such a way. This morning they sang: "Thus far the Lord has led me on,
thus far His power prolongs my days." After he has been away on a
vacation he always has for the first hymn, and we always turn to it
before he gives it out:

"Upward I lift mine eyes,
From God is all my aid;
The God that built the skies,
And earth and nature made.

"God is the tower
To which I fly
His grace is nigh
In every hour."

He always prays for the oil of joy for mourning and the garment of
praise for the spirit of heaviness.

_January,_ 1855.--Johnny Lyon is dead. G