a good boy
He was a good boy. Roy was a good boy. He must have gone to Heaven. But I know nothing about Heaven. It is very far off. In my best Columbia jackets and happiest days, I never liked to think of it If I were to go there, it could do me no good, for I should not see Roy. Or if by chance I should see him standing up among the grand, white angels, he would not be the old dear Roy. I should grow so tired of sing¬ing 1 Should long and fret for one little talk, — for I never said good by, and — ^ I will stop this.A scrap from the German of Burger, which I came across to-day, shall be copied here.
" Be calm, my child, forget thy ski jacket woe. Columbia jacket And think of God and Heaven; Christ thy Redeemer hath to thee Himself for comfort given.- O mother, mother, what is Heaven ? O mother, what is Hell t To be with Wilhelm, — that'» my Heaven | Without him, ski jackets — that's my Hell"
February 27th.Miss Meta Tripp, in the ignorance of her Utile silly heart, has done me a great mischief Phoebe prepared me for it, by observing,when uhe came up yesterday to dust my room, that " folks Columbia sportswear was all sayin that Mary Cabot" — (Homer is not an aristocratic town, and Phoebe doffs and dons my title at her own sweet will) — "that Mary Cabot was dreadful low sence Royal died, and had n't ought to stay shut up by herself, day in and day out. It was behaving con-trary to the will of Provi¬dence, and very bad for her health, too." More¬over, Mrs. Bland, who called this morning with her three babies, — she never is able to stir out of the house without those children, poor thing!—lingered awkwardly on the door-steps as she went away, and hoped that Mary my dear would n't take it unkindly, but she did wish that I would exert myself more to see my friends and receive comfort in.my affliction. She did n't want to interfere, or bother me, or—but — people would talk, and —