did something wrong when I fed bread to a stray dog. It was only that the dog looked very hungry. It does seem that when Father chased the dog away, and scolded me for wasting food by giving it to an animal, he was forgetting that we must all be kind to animals.
Mother: I was too hard on everyone this morning, demanding that the house be weatherproofed. However, if I donât think of these things, no one else seems to. The girls are already complaining of the cold in the attic, and there are barely enough quilts and blankets to go around.
Me: We should have given over all of our time to the picking of the butternuts as we were told to do. Instead I tempted my sisters and William to lay our pails aside and play at Indians. We wasted an hour of time and caused the tear in my pantaloons and Lizzieâs skinned knee. Also while we were playing, the squirrels got into our pails and we lost many of the nuts. William was very eager for the game.
Mr. Palmer: I should have finished cutting wood for the stove long since. I didnât stick to it and winter is close. My only excuse is that Bronson prefers the pen to the saw and the ax, leaving me to do his work for him. It is all very well towrite down a lot of ideas that look better on paper than they do in life, but if Bronson doesnât do his share, we are all bound to freeze.
Mr. Palmerâs words were very terrible. With his long beard and frown, I thought he looked like an Old Testament prophet. When he had finished there was a terrible silence. Fatherâs face went white and then red. He dislikes being criticized. I think if he believed very strongly in himself, it wouldnât bother him so much. I hate to be criticized for something I already know is wrong. After a moment Father stamped out of the room leaving all of us (except for Mr. Palmer) feeling miserable. Mother went after Father to pacify him. If we keep shooting arrows at one another, no one will be left.
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O CTOBER 11, 1843
I have been very bad, and so have Anna and William. We are all sorry for what we did. Mother has taught us that fibs lead to lies, and lies tangle you into webs from which there is no escaping. So it was. Though we knew of it, Anna and I had told no one; William continuedto play with the stray dog down near the river.
The poor dog was looking weak. William said he must have something more than bread. We had no flesh from animals for the dog, and no way to procure a piece of cow. William said he knew how to fish. I recalled seeing fishhooks at Fruitlands left by the last tenant. Anna said we must roast the fish, as the dog was not a seal or a walrus to eat the fish raw. I got the fishhooks. William caught the fish. Anna and I helped him roast it over a small fire while the dog looked on with his tongue hanging out.
Mr. Lane happened to be nearby and saw the smoke and discovered the fire and the fish before the dog had even one bite.
Mr. Lane and Father spoke very severely to us, telling us how the fish was one of Godâs creatures just as we were. I cried. Anna is in her room with a bad headache. William is up in the hayloft and wonât come down. Mr. Palmer took the dog to a friend at a nearby farm.
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O CTOBER 11, 1843
I felt badly for catching the fish, though I donât think the fish and I are so much alike in our feelings as Father says. I am sorry for William. Though Mother is kind to William, I believe he misses his own mother. The stray dog was not exactly a mother, but he was someone for William to love. Mr. Lane is a good man, but he is so upright in his behavior he would not be a father who could be easily loved.
I am sorry for Anna as well. Anna is so unhappy when Father is angry with her. When I am scolded I sulk and cry and stamp about having fits of remorse. In no time I have forgotten all about it. Anna says nothing when she is scolded but only cries and keeps all her misery inside herself. Then it turns into a headache that plagues her for
Mother: I was too hard on everyone this morning, demanding that the house be weatherproofed. However, if I donât think of these things, no one else seems to. The girls are already complaining of the cold in the attic, and there are barely enough quilts and blankets to go around.
Me: We should have given over all of our time to the picking of the butternuts as we were told to do. Instead I tempted my sisters and William to lay our pails aside and play at Indians. We wasted an hour of time and caused the tear in my pantaloons and Lizzieâs skinned knee. Also while we were playing, the squirrels got into our pails and we lost many of the nuts. William was very eager for the game.
Mr. Palmer: I should have finished cutting wood for the stove long since. I didnât stick to it and winter is close. My only excuse is that Bronson prefers the pen to the saw and the ax, leaving me to do his work for him. It is all very well towrite down a lot of ideas that look better on paper than they do in life, but if Bronson doesnât do his share, we are all bound to freeze.
Mr. Palmerâs words were very terrible. With his long beard and frown, I thought he looked like an Old Testament prophet. When he had finished there was a terrible silence. Fatherâs face went white and then red. He dislikes being criticized. I think if he believed very strongly in himself, it wouldnât bother him so much. I hate to be criticized for something I already know is wrong. After a moment Father stamped out of the room leaving all of us (except for Mr. Palmer) feeling miserable. Mother went after Father to pacify him. If we keep shooting arrows at one another, no one will be left.
Â
O CTOBER 11, 1843
I have been very bad, and so have Anna and William. We are all sorry for what we did. Mother has taught us that fibs lead to lies, and lies tangle you into webs from which there is no escaping. So it was. Though we knew of it, Anna and I had told no one; William continuedto play with the stray dog down near the river.
The poor dog was looking weak. William said he must have something more than bread. We had no flesh from animals for the dog, and no way to procure a piece of cow. William said he knew how to fish. I recalled seeing fishhooks at Fruitlands left by the last tenant. Anna said we must roast the fish, as the dog was not a seal or a walrus to eat the fish raw. I got the fishhooks. William caught the fish. Anna and I helped him roast it over a small fire while the dog looked on with his tongue hanging out.
Mr. Lane happened to be nearby and saw the smoke and discovered the fire and the fish before the dog had even one bite.
Mr. Lane and Father spoke very severely to us, telling us how the fish was one of Godâs creatures just as we were. I cried. Anna is in her room with a bad headache. William is up in the hayloft and wonât come down. Mr. Palmer took the dog to a friend at a nearby farm.
Â
O CTOBER 11, 1843
I felt badly for catching the fish, though I donât think the fish and I are so much alike in our feelings as Father says. I am sorry for William. Though Mother is kind to William, I believe he misses his own mother. The stray dog was not exactly a mother, but he was someone for William to love. Mr. Lane is a good man, but he is so upright in his behavior he would not be a father who could be easily loved.
I am sorry for Anna as well. Anna is so unhappy when Father is angry with her. When I am scolded I sulk and cry and stamp about having fits of remorse. In no time I have forgotten all about it. Anna says nothing when she is scolded but only cries and keeps all her misery inside herself. Then it turns into a headache that plagues her for
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