Loose insert #2 “Self restraint or temperance” (Transcribed)

Loose insert #2 “Self restraint or temperance” Transcribed

Self restraint or temperance Romans 14:12-23

This subject is a many sided one & therefore a difficult one to commence on, there are is much that might be said about it, but would it help us to nobler thought & action. Only the practical & simple thoughts live more Christlike lives. This is the object of our Fellowship Union.

Every day we are practising self restraint mor or less, the stronger our love to God is, the easier it will become to curb our desires & endeavour to help others, we are to model our lives, so that another perhaps someone we have never noticed may not stumble, things that we are sure would not hurt us, must be refrained from because of others.

Does our Lord & Master wish that our lives should be hampered & disfigured because someone else may misunderstand us?

We must turn to our Pattern Christ & see what we can learn from Him & we read in Romans 5:3rd “For even Christ pleased not himself; but, as it is written, The reproaches of them that reproached thee fell on me.” He went about doing good & He died for doing good & He died that we might live. Christ's life work was to spend & be spent for others & the example He left us to follow is to do good to all & to sacrifice our own.

Loose insert #1 “Note to Susie, (Sept 18 1895)” Transcribed

The first loose page in the back of the diary looks to be Lina practising an encouraging poem for a friend or family member perhaps. I say practising because it stayed in the diary. I hope Susie received the note because it is an encouraging one.

One thing you will notice if you enlarge the image by clicking on it is the floral design on the paper is hand painted and not just part of the stationary. I only noticed that when I scanned the page and thought that it was cool.




Loose insert #1 “Note to Susie, (Sept 18 1895)” Transcribed


FRONT:

(illustration- handpainted flowers)

Sept. 18th. 1895
Susie,

“Lean Hard”
Child of my love, lean hard!
And let Me feel the pressure of thy care;
I know thy burden for I fashioned it
Poised it in my own Hand, and made it’s weight
Precicely that which I saw best for thee;
and when I placed it on thy shrinking form
I said “I shall be near, and while she leans
On me, this burden shall be Mine, not hers,
So shall I keep within my circling arms
The child of my love”. Here
lay it down, nor fear to impose it on a
nor fear to weary Him, Who made, upholds,

BACK:

(different pen)

Weary and weak,
My feet had stumbled on this rugged way
Had it Thou not held my hand
And now I’m come
Close to the narrow stream.
Thine everlasting arms
Shall bear me safely through its floods can neér’
____ ______, Father, Thou lovest Thy child,
I do not doubt it, but will
“Lean Hard”

Sorry I haven't updated for so long.

Sorry it has been over a year since I have updated this blog. Last year I decided to have some time away from technology for the majority of the year. It was a refreshing and busy time; however it did mean I got out of the habit of transcribing from Lina’s diary.

What a blessing it was to receive comments from people who were related to Lina! I was glad that this site was able to assist someone researching their family tree. It has been encouraging to read that this site has been useful to someone. I hope you have enjoyed reading Lina’s diary as much as I have.

I will try and finish the diary this year. What is left looks to be some old letters, notes and clippings which are loose in the back of the diary. I will scan them in and try to transcribe as time permits.

Once again sorry I haven't updated for a while. I will try and be a little more consistent until the diary is completely transcribed. There are about 7-8 more pages to go, all loose paper in the back of the diary.

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."