Pages 107 Transcribed

Pages 107 Transcribed

SHELLS OF OCEAN.

One summer eve, in pensive thought,
I wandered on the seabeat shore,
Where oft in heedless infant sport,
I gathered shells in days before repeat:
The splashing waves like music fell,
Responsive to my fancy wild,
A dream came o'er me like a spell, repeat
I thought I was again, again a child. ditto

I stooped upon the pebbly strand
To cull the toys that round me lay;
But as I took them in my hand,
I threw them, one by one away, repeat
Oh! thus I said, in every stage.
By toys our fancy is beguiled;
We gather shells from youth to age, repeat
And then we leave them, leave them, like a child.


---


Fragments.

The impossible becomes possible when courage spurs us on. Humility us the altar on which God wishes us to offer sacrifice to Him. Troubles are the tools by which God fashions us for better things. Like a granite is cut and chiselled to make it more beautiful, so God chisels men to make them something nicer and better.

Pages 105-106 Transcribed

Pages 105-106 Transcribed

Papa's Letter

I was sitting in my study,
Writing letters when I heard,
"Please, dear mamma, Mary told me
Mamma mustn't be disturbed.

"But I've tired of de kitty,
Want some over fing to do.
Writing letters, if you, mamma?
May I wite a letter too?"

I would paint my darling's portrait, and slowly shook my head
Then I said, "I'll make a letter of darling boy, instead."
So I parted back the tresses from his forehead broad and white,
And a stamp in sport I pasted 'Mid its waves of golden light.

And I said, "Now, little letter, go away and bear good news."
And I smiled as down the staircase clattered loud the little shoes.
Leaving me, the darling hurried down to Mary in his glee,
Mama's witing lots of letters; I'se a letter, Mary - see!

No one heard the little prattler, once more he climbed the stair,
Reached his little cap and tippet, Standing on the entry there.
No one heard saw my darling baby, no one saw the golden hair,
As it floated in the breezes of the crisp October air.

Down the street the baby hastened till he reached the office door.
"I'se a letter, Mr. Postman; is there room for any more?
"'Cause dis letter's doin' to Pa, Pa lives with God, you know,
Ma sent me for a letter, Do you fink dat It can go?"

And the clerk in wonder answered,
"Not to-day, my little man."
"Den I'll find another office,
For I must go if I tan."

Fain the clerk would have detained him,
But the pleading face was gone,
And the little feet were hastening
By the busy crowd swept on.

Suddenly the crowd was parted,
People fled to left and right,
As a pair of maddened horses
At that moment came in sight.

No one saw the baby figure
No one saw his golden hair,
Till a voice of frightened sweetness
Rang out on the evening air.

Reverently they raised my darling,
Brushed away the locks of gold,
Saw the stamp upon the forehead,
Growing now so icy cold.

Not a mark the face disfigured,
Showing where a hoof had trod;
But the little life was ended
"Papa's letter" was with God.

Page 103 Transcribed

Page 103 Transcribed

1. Scenes that are brightest, May charm for awhile.
Hearts that are lightest, And eyes that smile.
Yet o'er them above us, Though nature beam,
With none to love us, How sad they seem!
With none to love us, How sad they seem!

2. Words cannot scatter, The thoughts we fear;
For though they flatter, They mock the ear,
Hopes will still deceive us With tearful cost,
And when they leave us The heart is lost.
And when they leave us The heart is lost.


Our lives are songs. God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.
We must write the music, whatever the song,
Whatever its rhyme, or metre;
And if it is sad, we can make it glad,
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter.

Page 101 Transcribed - Poem: The Gypsy’s warning

Page 101 Transcribed

The Gypsy’s warning

Do not trust him gentle lady,
Though his voice be low and sweet,
Heed not him who kneels before thee,
Gently pleading at the thy feet.
Now thy life is in its morning
Cloud not this happy lot,
Listen to the gypsy’s warning
Gentle lady, trust him not. (repeat)

Do not turn so coldly from me,
I would only guard your youth
From his stern and withering power
I would only tell thee truth.

Page 100 - Poem

Page 100 Transcribed

He wipes the tear

When sore afflictions crush the soul,
And riven is every earthly tie
The heart must cling to God alone:
He wipes the tear from every eye.
Enough wakeful nights when racked with pain
A bed of languishing you lie,
Remember still that God is near,
He wipes the tear from every eye.

A few short years, and all is oér;
Your sorrows, pains, will soon pass by;
Then lean in faith on God’s dear Son,
He’ll wipe the tear from every eye.
Oh! Never be your soul cast down,
Nor let your heart desponding sigh,
Assured that God, whose name is Love,
Will wipe the tear from every eye.

Page 99 - Clippings

Pages 99 - Clippings

Clipping 1

Power of Happiness

As vulgarity and ignorance betoken a neglected mind, so unhappiness and misery proclaim a neglected heart. The normal nature will keep strong and fresh the chords that vibrate joy. Depression and worry take the nerve out of mans arm, take the keen edge of his mind, rob life of its victory. For unhappiness wins no battles, gloom invents no tool, wretchedness writes no drama. Earths great achievements represent those whose hearts sung over their tasks. To meet storm with calm, defeat with faith, ingratitude with charity, is not an easy thing. Nothing requires so much wisdom, practice, and skill as learning how to live habitually above the distempers of life.
The Bachelors Complaint

Returning home at close of day,
Who gently chides my long delay,
And by my side delights to stay?
Nobody!

Who sets for me my easy chair,
Spreads out the papers with such care,
And leaves my slippers ready there?
Nobody!
When plunged in deep and dire distress,
When anxious cares my heart oppress,
Who whispers hopes of happiness?
Nobody!

When sickness comes and sorrow twain,
And grief distracts my fevered brain,
Who sympathises with my pain?
Nobody!

But I’m resolved, so help me fate,
To change at once my single state,
At Hymens altar I will mate
Somebody!

The girl that believes

Of all the pretty maidens
There’s none as sweet as she,
That simple trusting lassie,
The girl who believes in me.

There are some with greater beauty
And some wittier be;
But there is only one wee girlie
That ever believed in me.

She’s never been to college,
Knows not her ABC,
Yet she has stores of wisdom
(or she’d not believe in me).

She’s not an ancient lassie,
Her years they are but three,
Which maybe, is the reason
That she believes in me.

Clipping 2

To be learnt by heart

It is the woman who is neither just nor generous who is fondest of the saying “Be just before you are generous.”

All is not attractive that is good. Iron does not sparkle like a diamond, yet it is useful. Gold has not the fragrance of a flower, yet it is valuable. So different persons have different graces of excellence, and to be just we must have an eye to all.

Self is the point from which all our power must be drawn; but its effects are far beyond our sight or ken, reaching to family and friends to all who profit by our abilities and labours, to those whom we influence consciously, or unconsciously, both near and far away.

We are ruined, not by what we really want, but by what we think we do; therefore, never go abroad in search of your wants. If they be real wants, they will come home in search of you; for he who buys what he does not want will soon want what he cannot buy.

A single bitter word may disquiet an entire family for a whole day. One surly glance casts a gloom the household, while a smile, like a gleam of sunshine, may light up the darkest and weariest hours. Like unexpected flowers which spring up along our path, fall off freshness, fragrance, and beauty, so do kind words, and gentle acts and sweet dispositions make glad the home where peace and blessing dwell.

Wishing

Do you wish the world were better?
Let me tell you what to do.
Set a watch upon your actions,
Keep them all straight and true.
Rid your mind of selfish motives,
Let your thoughts be clean and high;
You can make a little Eden
Of the sphere you occupy.
Do you wish the world were wiser?
Well, suppose you make a start,
By accumulating wisdom
In the scrapbook of your heart.
Don’t waste one page on folly;
Live to learn, and learn to live,
If you want to give men knowledge,
You must get it, ere you give.
Do you wish the world were happy?
Then remember day to day
Just to scatter seeds of kindness
As you pass along the way;
For the pleasures of the many
May be of times traced one,
As the hand plants an acorn it
Shelters armies from the sun.

Pages 98

Pages 98 Transcribed

Dying with Jesus, His death reckoned mine,
Living with Jesus, a new life divine,
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine,
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine!

Moment by moment I’m kept in His love,
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine,
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.

Never a trial that He is not near,
Never a burden that He doth not bear,
Never a sorrow that He doth not share,
Moment by moment, I’m under His care.

Never a heartache, and never a groan,
Never a teardrop and never a moan,
Never a danger but there on the throne,
Moment by moment He thinks of His own.

Never a weakness that He doth not feel,
Never a sickness that He cannot heal,
Moment by moment, in woe or in weal,
Jesus my Saviour, abides with me still.

Never a battle with wrong for the right,
Never a contest that He doth not fight,
Lifting above us His banner so white,
Moment by moment I’m kept in His light.

Pages 96 - 97 – Poem “Mizpah”

Pages 96 - 97 – Poem “Mizpah” Transcribed

Mizpah

Go thou thy way, and I go mine,
Apart, yet not afar;
Only a thin veil hangs between
The pathways where we are.
And “God keep watch ‘tween thee and me”;
This is my prayer;
He looks thy way, He looketh mine,
And keeps us near.

I know not where thy road may lie,
Or which way mine will be;
If mine will lead thro’ parching sands
And thine beside the sea;
Yet God keeps watch ‘tween thee and me,
So never fear;
He holds thy hands, He claspeth mine,”
And keeps us near.

Should wealth and fame perchance be thine,
And my lot lowly be,
Or you be sad and sorrowful,
And glory be for me,
Yet God keep watch ‘tween thee and me;
Both be His care;
One arm round thee and one round me
Will keep us near.

I sigh sometimes to see thy face,
But since this may not be,
I’ll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
“I’ll keep you both beneath my wings,”
This comforts, dear; One wing o’er thee
and one o’er me,
Will keep us near.

And though our paths be separate,
And thy way is not mine,
Yet coming to the Mercy seat,
My soul will meet with thine.
And “God keep watch ‘tween thee and me,”
I’ll whisper there.
He blesseth thee, He blesseth me,
And we are near.

Lina Boultbee's gravesite

On the weekend I was able to visit the grave site and pay respect to Lina. It was strange visiting the grave of someone I've never met. When I looked at the headstone I couldn't help wondering if she would mind me reading her diary, or transcribing it onto the internet. For some reason seeing a real grave and knowing Lina's body was buried below gave the diary even more worth, and made the diary contents even more intriguing.

It was a very large marble grave with a plain marble headstone. I was expecting it to be more plain for some reason but I imagine it would have cost a lot in its time.

After finding the grave amongst the hundreds of headstones I photographed it so that there was a record of it to go on this blog with the diary pages. It is hard to believe that we have gone from knowing nothing about the diary, to having more and more information about Lina and even visiting her grave site.

I knew she was buried at the Wivenhoe Cemetery in Burnie through the eHeritage function on the State Library of Tasmania website.

I am looking forward to finding out some more information soon, as we keep on reading the diary of Lina J. Boultbee.

Pages 93 - 94 – Poem “They’re dear to God”

Pages 93 - 94 – Poem “They’re dear to God”

They’re dear to God
“Be ye followers of God as dear children” Eph 5:1

Oh that when Christians meet and part,
These words were graved on every heart,
They’re dear to God!
However wilful and unwise,
We’ll look on them with reverent eyes,
They’re dear to God!
Oh, wonder! To the Eternal One
Dear as his own Beloved Son;
Dearer to Jesus than His blood,
Dear, as the Spirits fixed abode:
Yes, dear to God!

When tempted to give pain for pain,
How would this thought our words restrain
They’re dear to God!
When truth couples us to contend
What love with all our strife should blend,
They’re dear to God!
When they would shun the pilgrims lot,
For this vain world. Forsake them not,
But win them back with love and prayer
They never can be happy there,
If dear to God.

Oh, how return a brothers blow,
The heart whose harshness wounds thee so,
Is dear to God,
Oh, who beneath the cross can stand,
And then from one hold back the hand
Dear to our God.
How with rough words can we conflict
Knowing each pang our words inflict,
Touches the heart once pierced for us,
The hearts we wring and torture thus
Are dear to God.

For is there here us strength in love
The love that knits in joy above,
All dear to God,
By the same woes and toils opprest,
We lean upon One faithful breast,
And hasten to the same repose;
How bear, or do enough for those
So dear to God?

For is there here us strength in love
The love that knits in joy above, all dear to God,
By the same woes and toils opprest,
We lean upon One faithful breast,
And hasten to the same repose;
How bear, or do enough for those
So dear to God?

Page 92 – Clipping “I Will’s!” (A POEM)

Page 92 – Clipping “I Will’s!” (A POEM)

I Will’s

Did you ever try to count the times you have to say “I will?”
For one, it’s necessary when you’re asked to pay the bill;
And when your Cousin Harry wants to take you for a row;
And when, unless you kiss him, he declines to let you go.
And when you’re asked to go a walk with Edwin all alone,
Or learn the right and proper way to squeeze if you are shown;
And when you are requested to believe that you’re “a dear”,
And that you have the prettiest nose and sweetest little ear.
And then there comes the time when Jack will ask you to be his Jill.
When, of course, you lose your voice, and have to whisper that you will.

Page 91 Transcribed: Poem- Be friendly on the way

Page 91 Transcribed: Poem- Be friendly on the way

Be friendly on the way

I have journeyed on life’s highway till the dial points to noon,
And I’ve learned some useful lessons on the way,
I have proved them oér and oér, and prize them more and more
And I think you can depend on what I say.
You may hold yourself aloof, and may think it is a proof
That you’re made of some superior sort of clay,
But you always find it pays in many different ways,
To be friendly to the people on the way.

If the day is dark and dreary, and the way is rough and steep,
And some weary brother falters on the road,
You will never feel the weight, be the burden small or great,
If you turn about and ease him of his load.
And you’ll often see the time when the sovereign merry chime
Will be a friendly offering most meet
When to give a little sum, some mishap to overcome,
Will keep some needy brother on his feet.

I have learned that shabby garments often clothe a noble soul,
And misfortune lies in wait for great and small;
Better help a friend today who is stranded by the way-
For who knows but that tomorrow we may fall.
Then speak out before the crowd, let your voice ring clear and loud,
And put your heart in every word you say
For a friendly word, you know, or a face with smiles aglow,
May help a downcast brother on the way.

“Alexandra”
June, 14 1904

Page 90 Transcribed: Poem- The way of the world

The way of the world

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and all your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is a room in the halls of pleasure
for a long and lordy train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Page 89: clipping transcribed

Page 89: clipping transcribed

Between 89 and 90 there were two clippings that appear to be taken from the same publication as some of the ones that appeared earlier in the diary. As I have said before I don’t think this is a newspaper but rather some sort of Christian publication.

I have put the two clippings on one blog entry.

-------------------

Clipping A

The Clock

Our little clock, mamma’s and mine,
High on her mantel dwells;
And when one knows just how it goes,
Such pleasant things it tells.

Thus when it points for tea at four
It says to us: “Just two hours more.”
Gladly at five it chimes this song:
“One hour is not so very long.”
We understand it ticks.
Then settling in the window seat,
We hark for footsteps on the street,
For father comes at six.

--

Yes or no?

He thought I said “Yes.” But I’m sure I said “No.”
My heart was a-beating, my cheeks were aglow;
I looked on the ground, and I thought he would go.
He thought I said “Yes,” but I’m sure I said “No.”
Now what could I do? For he thought I said “Yes.”
He sat close beside me, and you’ll never guess!
If you look at me so, I cannot confess!
He --- I’m sure I said “No,” but he thought I said “Yes.”

-------

Clipping B

HATRED

Hate not. It is not worthwhile. Your life is not long enough to make it pay to have ill-will or hard thoughts towards any man. What if that man has cheated you or that woman played you false? What is the friend you trusted above all has forsaken you in time of need, or, having gained your confidence, your love, has turned upon you and treats you with cold formality? Let it go/ Think not upon it; turn your mind to nobler things, lest resentment take the place in your heart which your friend once had. All who now misunderstand or misconstrue your words and deeds will be more sorry for it thereafter than you, even in your deepest disappointment and grief, can be.

--

THE QUIET HOLIDAY

If you really want to enjoy a day’s outing do take things quietly. Don’t overlook the fact that you have come out for a change, as you are apt to do, and put in more exertion than would happen in an ordinary working-day. I am speaking to the worker of course, not the girl who is fortunate enough to have no need to labour. There is nothing like getting to the sea or into the country for a change; but remember there is no pleasure in scurrying about for the purpose of telling your friends “how far you’ve been.” Enjoy Nature when you can. Sit in the field and gaze on the things around you; sit by the river and watch the tide flowing; rest under a tree and read a book; lie in a boat and drift with the tide flowing; rest under a tree and read a book; lie in a boat and drift with the tide, taking in the scene by early stages – that's the way to get a rest and a change. Don’t whizz about as if you only had a month to live. Holidays are rest days; therefore rest.

Page 88 : Poem- The way of it

Page 88 Transcribed: Poem- The way of it

The way of it

This is the way of it, wide world over,
One is beloved, and one is the lover,
One gives and the other receives.
One lavishes all in a wild emotion,
One offers a smile for a life's devotion,
One hopes and the other believes.
One lies awake in the night to weep
And the other drifts off in a sweet sound sleep.

One soul is aflame with a godlike passion,
One plays with love in an idler's fashion,
One speaks and the other hears.
One sobs, I love you, and wet eyes show it,
And one laughs lightly, and says, I know it,
With smiles for the other's tears.
One lives for the other and nothing beside,
And the other remembers the world is wide.

This is the way of it, sad earth over,
The heart that breaks is the heart of the lover,
And the other learns to forget.
For what is the use of endless sorrow?
Though the sun goes down, it will rise tomorrow;
And life is not over yet.
Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other,
That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Page 84: Letter from Clara

Page 84: Letter from Clara

Sorry I haven’t posted for a while, it has been very busy lately. This is an exciting entry because it reveals key clues from which I have been able to find out the identity of the diary writer.

Between pages 83 and 84 I found a letter folded up. It is basically a poem, along with some writing that has been scribbled out. I can't make out what has been scribbled out, but I do wonder who scribbled it out (the writer or the sender), and why.

The letter is from someone named Clara to someone named Lin. I assume that the letter was recieved by Lin and that as the letter was found in her diary she was the author of the diary. This means that Clara was the not the author of the diary, which is a pretty safe bet because the handwriting is different.

The letter in itself wouldn't be very helpful, but with the diary it is a vital clue.

Several posts ago we looked at a loose piece of paper that was on page 73. It was a wedding acceptance. To see it again blown up big click here. As you can see it contains a surname (Boultbee) which we decided was the surname of the author of the diary. This was supported by the name on the front cover of the diary (click here). Up until now I haven't been able to make out the initials on the front cover but I now believe that they are L.J. which stands for Lina Jane.

After several searches, I googled Clara+Boultbee which opened up a massive can of worms for me leading to me finding several helpful websites including this family tree. On it I found several things including two sisters named Lina Jane Boultbee and Clara Boultbee. I am 100 percent sure that the diary belonged to Lina Jane and that she was the one writing in it. I will continue to research Lina but here is a little bit of what I found today-

Linas father (George Parkyns Boultbee) managed a farm near Swansea, during which time Lina was born in 1863. She had quite a few brothers and sisters. The family lived in Swansea until 1868 when they moved to Table Cape in Wynyard. There, it is believed, George managed a 350-acre farm until his early death in 1877.

Lina was born in 1863. Which means she was 14 when her father died. She did not marry and died in 1952 at the age of 89. She is buried at the Wivenhoe cemetry. It appears from the electoral rolls that she moved around a little but not very much and she basically stayed within two electorates her whole adult life.

Here is a photo of Lina Jane Boultbee-


Putting a face and name to the diary gives me a lot more reverence when I hold it, as well as when I read it. Knowing that she lost her father when she was relatively young and that she never married in an era when marraige was seen as something women aspired to makes me wonder how these experiences informed her diary writing. Particularly certain poems she includes, like this one: Standing Alone. I hope she had a happy life.

Stay tuned to this blog because I will provide a lot more research later. We can now safely say that Lina did not live in Launceston as previously thought, though she may have travelled back and forward a little. I found one family tree that included both her name and my own name. Having a name will open up a lot of information, if you find any let me know by commenting.

It is amazing how this tiny little letter opened up a lot more information.

Here is what was written-

Page 84: Letter from Clara transcribed

For dear Lin with Claras love

(there is something scribbled I can't make out)

If I had known

If I had known in the morning,
How wearily all the day,
The words unkind would trouble my mind,
That I said when you went away,
I had been more careful darling,
Nor given you needless pain,
But we vex our own with look and tone,
We may never take back again.

For though in the quiet evening,
You may give me the kiss of peace,
Yet it well might be that never for me,
The pain of the heart should cease,
How many go forth at morning,
Who never come home at night,
And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken,
That sorrow can ne'er set right,

We have careful thought for the stranger,
And smiles for the sometimes guest,
But oft for "our own" the bitter tone,
Though we love our own the best,
Ah! lips with the curve impatient,
Ah! how with the shade of scorn,
'Twere a cruel fate, were the night too late,
To undo the work of the morn.

Loose piece of paper between Page 73 & 74 - Wedding RSVP

This is an exciting entry, because it is a loose scrap of paper with a wedding RSVP on it. This gives us a lot of clues and confirms something we knew. It is now safe to say that the diary writer lived in or around Launceston area. It is now pretty safe to say that the writer was Miss Boultbee, a female who was unmarried at the time of writing the note and probably the whole diary. We also know that she attended a wedding on the 1st of February sometime and that the wedding was for Mr. A Weymouth's daughter. I am excited to have a surname and I have searched newspaper records and found too many Boultbee's to narrow it further.

The name Boultbee matches the front cover and it is obvious now but I still can't read the initials. Have a look HERE.

There is one word I can't work out, but I think it would provide major clues. It is the last word before the address. Also it is curious that the address on the piece of paper is the same street as Richard Gee the distributor of the notebook.

How exciting!! The mystery is unfolding...

Loose piece of paper between Page 73 & 74 - Wedding RSVP-

"Miss Boultbee's compliments to Mr. A Weymouth, and she will be happy to accept his kind invitation to his daughters wedding on the 1st of February next ________ 219 Charles St."

Page 72: Poem- Standing Alone

Page 72: Poem- "Standing Alone" TRANSCRIBED:

Standing Alone

“The baby is standing all lovey”
The children shout in their glee
And father and mother and auntie
Must hurry to come and see.
So baby, the cute little darling,
Is put through the wonderful feat,
And fondled and kissed and commended
For being so smart and so sweet.

With the cunningest of triumph
She stands in the mist of it all,
While the outstretched arms of her mother
Is ready to save a fall
And whenever the little one totters,
Around her that arm is thrown,
Tis very fine fun thinks the baby
This frolic of standing alone!

Ah many a time in the future
She’ll long for the aid of that arm,
When the love and the care of the mother
No longer can shield her from harm
For (?) oft when one need is the sorest
There’s no one to whom we can turn
And standing alone is a lesson
Tis hard for a woman to learn.

And often and over my baby
Before life’s long journey is gone,
You will yearn in the hours of weakness,
For something to lean upon
When the props upon which you depended
Are taken away or oér thrown
You will find it so wearisome baby,
So wearisome standing alone.

Page 70 - Clipping

Loose paper: Puzzling Poem

Loose paper transcribed: Puzzling Poem

This was a loose piece of paper wedged in between page 62 and 63. I would love to know what the intent/meaning behind the puzzling poem is.

Flower in the crannied wall
I pluck you out of the crannies
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand
Little flower if I could understand
What you are, root & and all, and all in all
I should know what God and man is

Page 60, 61, 62 & 63 Transcribed: (CONFUSING!!!)

Please note, pages 60 - 63 were troubling to me because they didn't really make sense. They appear to be shorthand notes, perhaps for a story or play. I have found no published fictional material that contains either the characters or plot outline included here. Perhaps I am wrong but I think the author of the diary was writing or outlining some stories and perhaps planning their own work of fiction. I find this frustrating so if anyone comments with definite clues that lead to me figuring out what the notes refer to I will award them a good prize.

Page 60, 61, 62 & 63 Transcribed:

“The Lumberers”

Staying at seaside with parents calling on Missus Perkins, deceased clergyman’s daughter, which kept creditable appearances. Eldest, Miss P kept the house and half its comforts, even going out to do the shopping to save the expense. Three girls by first marriage. Two by second 1st Robina or “Bobby”. Second Miss Annie – ladylike, delicate health, required open air entire care garden. Third Miss Sarah – not attractive, would sit in pleasant place and sew, she has such an eye for a pattern. Would cut down gowns, cloaks, _____, then make them look decent for poor. Much loved by the poor. 1st Second, Amelia never did anything for anyone but grumbled at all. 2nd Bessie, a good useful girl at everyone’s beck and call... wanted learn drawing. Amelia’s friend Mr Blount, (Hiding in empty bathing machine. Hear themselves spoken of., the small subscription. The sewing A (Amelia??) reads and gets cross. The Boating trip. Flower girl loses a friend in Miss Annie, Mr Blount’s kindness, the strange ministers sermon “the Lumberer” A (Amelia??) laughs at it, she marries, comes into a fortune, soon spends it and asks help from sisters with whom she quarrelled. They help by taking her eldest children. Still very poor.

“My Great Aunts Picture”

I present you with the cap if it fits wear it... many confers to being proud, wain, even having temper but who is being envious, yet nearly all are so. Two aunts living in a nice cottage near the sea, Millicent makes her first visit there. “She is like her great aunt Beatrice’s picture – the expression more like than features” said aunt Mary, the picture seems to speak to hear and makes her uncomfortable, the aunts have so much to say to her. The aunts pictured face in the moonlight. Cousin Rosie Grant. They spend the days on beach. Milli ____ the way. The father and sons. The music R (Rosie??) plays well from memory, Rosie causes Mi to be envious. So childlike and merry, aunts tell of sweetness of temer, usefulness her obedience. The run on the beach. The real name was Annie.

The aunts give Millicent the picture she has to accept it. It tells her she envies her sister. They leave for holiday, she is unable to go but is thankful to be alone – no one to envy. Father pities – asks her cousin Rosie to stay with her. R (Rosie??) praises her beauty, loves her, the picnic, the lily wreath, forgotten music. The face reflected in the water. She sinks. Rosie saves by holding, then falls – the Haymakers.

Does she live? My great sin; R (Rosie’s??) severe illness, recovery, confession, forgiveness.

“Dr Deane’s Governess”

Miss Ann Salter the bright jolly friend of the children now becomes the affected governess, Mrs Mill takes deep interest in the household matters. Fanny now borrows home. Will Dobson (Dependence or independence) AS’s fathers accident. Fanny take her work, uncle pleased. AS see’s her mistake. Appy ever after.

“The Stolen Treasure”

Companions at the Willows Caroline Baker, very attractive, eyes same nut brown hue as hair, peculiar clearness, black eyebrows, asks Madame for holiday on birthday and obtains it. 3 months after Christiana Black came, not noticed because of their fascination for Caroline who was a native of the West Indies. The Black man with infant in arms (Miss West tells the story) the lady and gentlemen leave ________ and a letter asking Caroline Baker to befriend her, she objects. Madame was away for the day because of the holiday. Mrs M arrives a day too soon. The Indian nurse is left with her, spoils her, the nurse dies. May very ill, none could console her 4 weeks after the sad cry heard thru quiet house at night, very ill. May _____ finds a friend. The night-gown and two tiny kittens, the doll. Christina Frances Black carrying Mary Pickaback. Caroline Baker interferes writes litters and receives giving her our _______. Holiday at the seaside. Treasure in danger sailors help... “The treasure is saved, Frances speechless” recovers... Mrs ____ comes to seaside, takes both, Caroline’s self pity.

“Emily’s Ambition”

An orphan with grandmother “If thou was dressed as ____ of ____ thou couldn’t play a Lady”, Miss Cooper a Christian State School Teacher comes to her. Mr Smalley was expected. The headstone for mothers grave, silk and ribbons promises G help in London. Neighbour John Mills, clever drawing and _____ _____ _____ would like to put him to the trade in London. I refused. Father’s illness, children neglected garden... shout of food. Best clothes sold, goes to church in old ones, The grand opinion, Emily fine lady airs. The figure Hope finished “Beautiful, two would pay the bread bill.”

The trip to London- rain, empty house, caretaker Mr _____ ____ to find work has her pocket picked, works hard when she can get it because ill, kindly nursed, poorer ____. Johns letter, Grandmothers death everything claimed by her children. Homeless, alone, have to leave the house, find a room very low surroundings, through the kind visitor is able to get her things out of pawn, ____ a home Mrs Smarts illness and death, applies for teaching, how John saw her, still true apple ever after. Go to New South Wales. Mr and Mrs Mills, John and _____.

“Two Enthusiasts”

Miss ___ Erica’s Greys, wanted companions’ maiden lady country. “This be _______ Miss Beatrice” to you. “The First Sunday”. “Making friends” _____ ___ ______ and Mr Keith ill, doing good work not satisfied. Jack Carter the page taken ill. Erica helps by talking to him. “Lois” Sir Percival ill wants to see Beatrice, Raphael Everard wounded in South Africa. Telegrams every day. Return. B knew him before. “The new Baronet” ____ B entertains ____ ____. Raphael sny- all so happy. “an explosion” R almost gone. “Hard work”. Lucy helps. B urging the wed soon- a grand overcoming of self. “a tempest” . “calm after storm” another Christmas. Four Kiddies, Ha Ha Ha!!!!

Page 56, 57 & 58: Poem- Beautiful Snow

Note - I immediately recognised this poem as one I read before. I think I had read it in school or something like that. Anyway, I can see why the writer of the diary copied it from wherever they read it as it is a beautiful poem. When I googled it I found it was quite famous and by J. W. Watson. It was written in 1870. I copied it out word for word though and found that the wording in the diary was different to versions I found elsewhere. I am thinking the writer of the diary must have changed some lines in the poem from the original version. I notice that there is a Scripture reference at the bottom. In my mind I have pictured a scenario where the writer of the diary has edited the poem and added Scripture to use it as a reading for church, or devotion for family, or teaching aid for something. Of course I have nothing to back up this theory other than the fact that they have changed the poem. Still it is a lovely poem.

Page 56, 57 & 58: Poem- Beautiful Snow

Beautiful Snow

Oh! The snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and the earth below,
Over the housetops, over the streets,
Over the heads of people you meet.
Dancing____ Flirting_______ Skimming along.
Beautiful snow! It can do no wrong;
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in frolicsome freak;
Beautiful snow from heaven above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love!

Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go
Whirling about in maddening fun:
Chasing_____ Laughing____ Hurrying by.
It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye;
And the dogs with a bark and a bound
Snap at the crystals as they eddy around;
The town is alive, and its heart is aglow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow!

How wild the crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humour and song;
How the gay sleighs like meteors flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye:
Ringing______ Swinging_________ Dashing they go,
Over the crest of the beautiful snow;
Snow so pure as it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in time by the crowd rushing by -
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.

Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell,
Fell like the snowflakes from heaven to hell;
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street,
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat;
Pleading_____ Cursing______ Dreading to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy;
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead.
Merciful God! I have fallen so low!
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow..

Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow;
Once I was loved for my innocent grace--
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face!
Father_____ Mother_____ Sisters--all,
God and myself I have lost by my fall:
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by,
Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too night,
For all that is on or above me I know,
There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.

How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!
How strange it should be when the night comes again
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain!
Fainting____Freezing______ Dying alone,
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan
To be heard in the streets of the crazy town,
Gone mad in the joy of snow coming down:
To be and to die in my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.

Downtrodden and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not! Christ stoopeth low,
To rescue the soul that is lost in sin,
and raise it to life and enjoyment again.
Groaning__ Bleeding____ Dying for sinners like thee,
The Crucified hung on the cursed tree!
“Thy sins are forgiven”____ “Go and sin no more”.
O God! in the stream that for sinners did flow,
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Luke 10:47, John 2:11

Page 54: clipping transcribed

Page 54: clipping transcribed

Between 53 and 54 there was a clipping that looked as though it was from the newspaper but it was probably some sort of Christian publication because it was spiritual on the front and back. It was obvious the What Would Jesus Do? Poem was the reason for this clipping because the other side was chopped up. Also there was a shopping list but I have scanned both as the same image.

What Would Jesus Do?

If washed in Jesus’ blood,
Then bear his likeness too;
And as you onward press,
Ask “What would Jesus do?”

With willing heart and hand,
Your daily task pursue,
Work, for the day wears on;
Ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Be gentle eén when wronged,
Revenge and pride subdue;
When to forgive seems hard,
Ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Be brave and do the right,
And scorn to be untrue;
When fear would whisper “Yield,”
Ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Give with a full, free hand,
God freely gives to you;
And check each selfish thought
With “What would Jesus do?”

Then let the golden thread,
Woven your life-work thro’
Reflecting Heaven’s own light,
Be, “What would Jesus do?”

-Anon

Page 51-52 Transcribed: Poem (Disappointed)

Page 51-52 Transcribed: Poem (Disappointed)

Disappointed

Our yet unfinished story, is tending all to this:
To GOD the greatest Glory, to us the greatest bliss.
If all things work together for ends so grand and blest,
What need to wonder whether each in itself is best!

If some things were omitted or altered as we would,
The whole might be unfitted to work for perfect good.
Our plans may be disjointed, but we may calmly rest;
What God has once appointed is better than our best.

We cannot see before us, but our all-seeing Friend
Is always watching o’er us, and knows the very end.
What though we seem to stumble? He will not let us fall;
And learning to be humble is not lost time at all.

What though we fondly reckoned a smoother way to go
Than where His hand has beckoned? It will be better so.
What only seemed a barrier a stepping-stone shall be;
Our God is no long tarrier, a present Help is He.

And when amid our blindness His disappointments fall,
We trust His lovingkindness whose wisdom sends them all.
They are the purple fringes that hide His glorious feet;
They are the fire-wrought hinges where truth and mercy meet;

By them the golden portal of Providence shall ope,
And lift to praise immortal the songs of faith and hope.
From broken alabaster was deathless fragrance shed,
The spikenard flowed the faster upon the Saviour’s head.

No shattered box of ointment we ever need regret,
For out of disappointment flow sweetest odors yet.
The discord that involveth some startling change of key,
The Master’s hand resolveth in richest harmony.

We hush our children’s laughter, when sunset hues grow pale;
Then, in the silence after, they hear the nightingale.
We mourned the lamp declining that glimmered at our side; --
The glorious starlight shining has proved a surer guide.

Then tremble not and shrink not when Disappointment nears;
Be trustful still, and think not to realize all fears.
While we are meekly kneeling, we shall behold her rise,
Our Father’s love revealing, an angel in disguise.

Page 50 Transcribed: Poem (God’s Sentinels)

Page 50 Transcribed: Poem (God’s Sentinels)

God’s Sentinels

Good women are God’s sentinels; in the darkest of earths night,
They hold with stout hearts silently, lifes outposts towards the light,
And at God Almighty’s roll call, among the hosts that answer “Here”
The voices of good women sound strong and sweet and clear.

Good women are brave soldiers; in the thickest of the fight,
They stand with stout hearts patiently, embattled for the night,
And though no blare of trumpet or roll of drum is heard,
Good women the world over are in the army of the Lord.

Good women save the nation though they bear not sword or gun,
Their _____ is righteousness; their will with God is one.
Each in her single person revealing God on earth
Knowing that so, and only so, is any life of worth.

Don’t talk of woman’s weakness, I tell you that this hour
The weight of this world’s future depends upon their power.
And down the rock of ages, as times flood tides are told,
The level of their heights is marked by the place that woman holds.

Helena Nichols

Page 48-49 Transcribed: Poem (The door of the lips)

Page 48-49 Transcribed: Poem (The door of the lips)

The door of the lips

Say not the words ye mean not, words are knives
That cut deep gashes in our little lives
Gashes that reach deep down within the heart
And all our lives have some smart.

Say not the word ye mean not, words will live
To mock your grief when you perchance would give
Your very life to take away the pain
That they have made; alas twill be in vain.

Ah! Many a word that was in passion said,
Has left the wound that secretly has bled,
Till love has come to be a trickling stream,
And earthly joys like some past happy dream.

Yea! All that brightens life has fled away
Leaving but work, the dreary liveloud day
Say not the thing ye mean not, there be few
Whose life without and life within are true.

Yet be ye true, yea, though ye suffer wrongs,
True, then ______ and being ____ strong;
And being strong, some little word ye speak
May help some struggling brother who is weak.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Sure your life
Is not for meanness, pettishness or strife;
Souls who have destinies, so great, so high,
May not defame their immortality.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Every word
That wrought a pang of anguish or that stirred
With secret sorrow ___ human soul,
Will bound back on thyself, like waves that throw
Themselves upon the shore, then leap again
To the deep bosom of the watery main.

Say not the thing we mean not. Harsh and chill
Is this cold world; why let thy words work ill?
Rather than wipe eyes that weep, cheer those who mourn
And whisper comfort into hearts forlorn.
Impute not wrong, less thou should add to strife
Or mar with bitterness some noble life.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Death is nigh
Thou knowst not but soon that one may lie
In cold grave, whose ears so sadly heard,
The harsh unfeeling bitter unkind word.

Page 44: clipping transcribed

This clipping actually tells us a fair bit about the diary. It appears to be a newspaper clipping summarising biblical teaching by Rev. A.R. Osborn of Chalmers Church. A century ago this was common to publish Christian teaching and sermon notes in the newspaper for people who missed the service. As it came unglued I also posted the back of the clipping which shows a portion of the clipping, which shows sports results. I know the lack of paragraph gaps makes it annoying to read, but I wanted it transcribed as printed. It was probably printed this way to conserve space.



Page 44: clipping transcribed

Last evening Rev. A. R. Osborn concluded his series on the “”Life after death.” The work of previous sermons was that of analysis and of providing a groundwork for our conclusions. Throughout he maintained there was a revelation of truth. People asked them why it was so inaccurately defined. In answering this he took the analogy of a little child asking what the electric light was and where it a came from. Dearly the child’s conception must be inadequate, and to a certain extent inaccurate . To us who know a little more it seems absurd. Yet the light was there, and no one thinks that the little one’s confused and imaginative thinking discredits the existence of any light at all. So it was with the Jews. They began with the idea of Sheol. This idea was, however, disturbed by the growing perception that in this life there is not always reward or punishment, and also by their continual oppression. Gradually the revelation came that God will conquer all unrighteousness, and that in the life to be the wrong of the earth would be put right. This was the light; but we must not expect that they would define it accurately. Just as in the case of the child their description as we have it in their apocalyptic literature was inadequate, and often inaccurate and imaginary. Christ did not give accurate definition, because the people were not even then sufficiently developed to understand it; but he taught the correctives to know they would in time do their work. Among these were the spiritual nature of the Kingdom of God and the Fatherhood of God. After Christ the church entered on a period of struggle which was followed by the empire resulting in a vast ecclesiastical system. It was only at the Reformation that men came back to the study of divine revelation. Of course they could not do all. We are working out what they began, and the more we understand Christ’s teaching about the spiritual nature of His Kingdom the more do we feel dissatisfied with the old description, though not with the light behind the description. Hence we may say first of all that there is undoubtedly a life after death. Even scientific men are coming to favour this view, though at first many opposed it. Science, however, confesses that it has no real objection to offer to a future life. Some indeed say that our sentient life is due to the union of soul and body, and that the destruction of the body means cessation of conscious existence. This however, is no objection if in the future state we inhabit a spiritual body which is what the Christian doctrine of a resurrection asserts. As to the nature of the future life little can be said. We can reverently only speculate. It is sufficient to say that it will be well for the good, and that evil and good alike will be rewarded. The preacher then into a discussion of future punishment, describing the objects of punishment, vindictive, deterrent and reformatory, and indicating how these bore on the question of future punishment. In conclusion he thought that while a few things are sure, and we must be guided by them, much regarding manner and ultimate issue cannot be answered. We can simply trust the Eternal Father.

Page 43 ½ : clipping

Page 43 ½ : clipping

The curious thing about the next page with something on it is that it is only half a page, for some reason half has been cut out and the page number has been written in as 43 ½ which I found weird. The text is strange too but was definitely glued in. To me it appears to only be half of what was written. You may need to click on the image to make it more zoomed and easier to read. I have no idea what this clipping is describing or where the rest of it is. I would say it is supposed to be a bookmark but it was definitely glued in like you would glue an important clipping. I really have no idea what this is about, it is too strange for me to even guess.

Page 40 Transcribed: Poem (Giving)

I hope I transcribe this correctly because some words were difficult to read...




Giving

What do we give each other
who meet on life’s troubled way?
A tear, or a smile, or a helping hand-
a brave “Godspeed” to the Fatherland,
or merely a brief “Good day”?

What do we give to each other?
Do we guess at the hearts ache
‘neath the smiling lips and flippant speech;
there are hidden thorns on the path of each
there are burdens that wellnigh break.

What do we give to each other?
Do we tender mere stones for bread,
or living grain from God’s garnered store;
who borroweth hence may return for more,
till each hungry soul is fed.

But as we give to each other,
pray God that His love may flow
through our pitying hearts to the hearts that ache,
for loveless hands may no comfort take
to the secret haunts of woe.

Page 36 Transcribed: Poem (Beyond)

Page 36 Transcribed: Poem (Beyond)

Beyond

Never a word is said, but it trembles in the air,
And the truant voice has sped, to vibrate everywhere;
And perhaps far off in eternal years
The echo may ring upon our ears.

Never are kind acts done to wipe the weeping eyes,
But like flashes of the sun, they signal to the skies;
And up above the angels read
How we have helped the sorer need.

Never a day is given, but it tones the after years,
And it carries up to heaven its sunshine or its tears;
While the to-morrows stand and wait,
The silent mutes by the outer gate.

There is no end to the sky, and the stars are everywhere,
And time is eternity, and the here is over there;
For the common deeds of the common day
Are ringing bells in the far-away.

Page 22: clipping (The Main Steps to the Higher Life of Faith, Victory and Blessing)

Page 22: clipping

Like the other clippings I don’t really need to transcribe page 22 as it is typed. You may need to click on the image to make it more zoomed and easier to read. There are a lot of blank pages where clippings have fallen out. This clipping appears to be some sort of theological discussion, and I really like it and wholeheartedly agree with it.
I wish the other clippings hadn’t fallen out because some of these are very interesting.




Transcribed:

The Main Steps to the Higher Life of Faith, Victory and Blessing

Without intimating or implying that there is any mechanical and uniform order in human experience, or that a human soul can be run like an engine, along an iron track, from station to station, there are six or seven successive stages of experience through which believers generally pass who enter into this higher life of faith, victory and blessing.

We venture to indicate what the steps in such advance are.

1. The prompt renunciation of whatever is known or even suspected to be contrary to the will of God. Conscience must first of all be clean, and clear of conscious disobedience or neglect of duty. Hindrance to holy living must be abandoned.

2. The acceptance of the Lord Jesus Christ not only as Saviour but as Lord. A new surrender to the will of God, which practically enthrones Him as Sovereign. The self-life sacrificed, with its self –indulgence and self-dependence.

3. Obedience now becomes the watchword of the soul. The will of God being voluntarily enthroned, compliance with it becomes habitual and natural, and service to God the supreme end of one's being.

4. This prepares for close and constant fellowship with God. Communion ceases to be occasional and clouded, and the great premise of John xiv. 23. becomes increasingly real in actual experience.

5. The sense of Divine possession of one's entire being - spirit, soul and body - is the natural outcome of such conditions. When there is no longer any conscious reservation because the whole being joyfully yielded up to Him, we become consciously His own.

6. There is now a new joy and peace which passeth understanding, a new revelation of Christ as an indwelling presence, and a true infilling of the Holy Ghost.

7. All this fits the largest possible service to God and man. God gives to all truly consecrated believers the scepter of holy influence. The Living Water, which was at first a draught to quench thirst, and then a well or spring of life within, now becomes a stream, flowing out and multiplying into rivers of blessing. This is the last stage of the Victorious Life - the stage of triumphant power over sin, prevailing power in prayer, and witnessing power among men. Whatever is done primarily to please one’s self puts at risk pleasing God, and hence a high standard of holy living always and in everything involves obedience to two simple, practical rules:
(A) I will seek to please Christ as my Master and Lord, the Sovereign of my life; (B) I will seek to please my neighbour for his good unto edification.

Dr. A.T. Pierson

Page 18-19 Transcribed:

Today I do two pages as it is the one piece.





Page 18-19 Transcribed:

There’s a sea for weary souls, Crimson Sea;
And its cleansing billows roll over me
To this sea your sorrows bring,
And its waves will heal their sting,
It is flowing while I sing over me.
Oh what heavenly raptures steal over me.
Just when the waves I feel over me
All my sins and sorrows go
And my heart is white as snow
While the cleansing billows roll over me.

Over me, Over me, Over me, Over me
Let the cleansing billows roll over me
Let me bathe my weary soul
Purify and make me whole
While the cleansing billows roll over me.

There’s an ocean full of love, love to me
Love of God in Heaven above, love to me
I, a rebel, full of guile
And my heart so black and vile
Yet he loves me all the while, even me.
Like an ocean wide and deep. Love to me.
For sinners He did weep, even me.
He has made me fully whole
And this love now fills my soul
Like a wave I feel it roll, over me.

Grace is flowing like a river, grace for me
Grace so ____ me up forever, grace for me.
Like a river it does flow,
Free to all men here below.
There’s enough from me I know, even me
It is flowing every day, grace for me.
By his grace He keeps me whole
Gives me victory in my soul
Like a wave i feel it roll, over me.