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Also of her mother Mrs. Aurelia Randall
In case of Death the best of these Thoughts

May be printed in my Remerniscences
For the Sunday School Library at Temperance, Maine

Which needs more books fearfully
And I hereby

Will and Testament them to Mr. Adam Ladd
Who bought 300 cakes of soap from me

And thus secured a premium
A Greatly Needed Banquet Lamp

For my friends the Simpsons.
He is the only one that incourages

My writing Remerniscences and
My teacher Miss Dearborn will

Have much valuable Poetry and Thoughts
To give him unless carelessly destroyed.

The pictures are by the same hand that
Wrote the Thoughts.

IT IS NOT NOW DECIDED WHETHER REBECCA ROWENA RANDALL WILL BE A
PAINTER OR AN AUTHOR, BUT AFTER HER DEATH IT WILL BE KNOWN WHICH

SHE HAS BEEN, IF ANY.
FINIS

From the title page, with its wealth of detail, and its
unnecessary and irrelevant information, the book ripples on like

a brook, and to the weary reader of problem novels it may have
something of the brook's refreshing quality.

OUR DIARIES May, 187--
All the girls are keeping a diary because Miss Dearborn was very

much ashamed when the school trustees told her that most of the
girls' and all of the boys' compositions were disgraceful, and

must be improved upon next term. She asked the boys to write
letters to her once a week instead of keeping a diary, which they

thought was girlish like playing with dolls. The boys thought it
was dreadful to have to write letters every seven days, but she

told them it was not half as bad for them as it was for her who
had to read them.

To make my diary a little different I am going to call it a
THOUGHT Book (written just like that, with capitals). I have

thoughts that I never can use unless I write them down, for Aunt
Miranda always says, Keep your thoughts to yourself. Aunt Jane

lets me tell her some, but does not like my queer ones and my
true thoughts are mostly queer. Emma Jane does not mind hearing

them now and then, and that is my only chance.
If Miss Dearborn does not like the name Thought Book I will call

it Remerniscences (written just like that with a capital R).
Remerniscences are things you remember about yourself and write

down in case you should die. Aunt Jane doesn't like to read any
other kind of books but just lives of interesting dead people and

she says that is what Longfellow (who was born in the state of
Maine and we should be very proud of it and try to write like

him) meant in his poem:
"Lives of great men all remind us

We should make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time."
I know what this means because when Emma Jane and I went to the

beach with Uncle Jerry Cobb we ran along the wet sand and looked
at the shapes our boots made, just as if they were stamped in

wax. Emma Jane turns in her left foot (splayfoot the boys call
it, which is not polite) and Seth Strout had just patched one of

my shoes and it all came out in the sand pictures. When I learned
The Psalm of Life for Friday afternoon speaking I thought I

shouldn't like to leave a patched footprint, nor have Emma Jane's
look crooked on the sands of time, and right away I thought Oh!

What a splendid thought for my Thought Book when Aunt Jane buys
me a fifteen-cent one over to Watson's store.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
REMERNISCENCES

June, 187--
I told Aunt Jane I was going to begin my Remerniscences, and she

says I am full young, but I reminded her that Candace Milliken's
sister died when she was ten, leaving no footprints whatever, and

if I should die suddenly who would write down my Remerniscences?
Aunt Miranda says the sun and moon would rise and set just the

same, and it was no matter if they didn't get written down, and
to go up attic and find her piece-bag; but I said it would, as

there was only one of everybody in the world, and nobody else
could do their remerniscensing for them. If I should die tonight

I know now who would describe me right. Miss Dearborn would say
one thing and brother John another. Emma Jane would try to do me

justice, but has no words; and I am glad Aunt Miranda never takes
the pen in hand.

My dictionary is so small it has not many genteel words in it,
and I cannot find how to spell Remerniscences, but I remember

from the cover of Aunt Jane's book that there was an "s" and a
"c" close together in the middle of it, which I thought foolish

and not needful.
All the girls like their dairies very much, but Minnie Smellie

got Alice Robinson's where she had hid it under the school wood
pile and read it all through. She said it was no worse than

reading anybody's composition, but we told her it was just like
peeking through a keyhole, or listening at a window, or opening a

bureau drawer. She said she didn't look at it that way, and I
told her that unless her eyes got unscealed she would never leave

any kind of a sublimefootprint on the sands of time. I told her
a diary was very sacred as you generally poured your deepest

feelings into it expecting nobody to look at it but yourself and
your indulgent heavenly Father who seeeth all things.

Of course it would not hurt Persis Watson to show her diary
because she has not a sacred plan and this is the way it goes,

for she reads it out loud to us:
"Arose at six this morning--(you always arise in a diary but you

say get up when you talk about it). Ate breakfast at half past
six. Had soda biscuits, coffee, fish hash and doughnuts. Wiped

the dishes, fed the hens and made my bed before school. Had a
good arithmetic lesson, but went down two in spelling. At half

past four played hide and coop in the Sawyer pasture. Fed hens
and went to bed at eight."

She says she can't put in what doesn't happen, but as I don't
think her diary is interesting she will ask her mother to have

meat hash instead of fish, with pie when the doughnuts give out,
and she will feed the hens before breakfast to make a change. We

are all going now to try and make something happen every single
day so the diaries won't be so dull and the footprints so common.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
AN UNCOMMON THOUGHT

July 187--
We dug up our rosecakes today, and that gave me a good

Remerniscence. The way you make rose cakes is, you take the
leaves of full blown roses and mix them with a little cinnamon

and as much brown sugar as they will give you, which is never
half enough except Persis Watson, whose affectionate parents let

her go to the barrel in their store. Then you do up little bits
like sedlitz powders, first in soft paper and then in brown, and

bury them in the ground and let them stay as long as you possibly
can hold out; then dig them up and eat them. Emma Jane and I

stick up little signs over the holes in the ground with the date
we buried them and when they'll be done enough to dig up, but we

can never wait. When Aunt Jane saw us she said it was the first
thing for children to learn,--not to be impatient,--so when I

went to the barn chamber I made a poem.
IMPATIENCE

We dug our rose cakes up oh! all too soon.
Twas in the orchard just at noon.

Twas in a bright July forenoon.
Twas in the sunny afternoon.

Twas underneath the harvest moon.
It was not that way at all; it was a foggy morning before school,

and I should think poets could never possibly get to heaven, for
it is so hard to stick to the truth when you are writingpoetry.

Emma Jane thinks it is nobody's business when we dug the
rosecakes up. I like the line about the harvest moon best, but it

would give a wrong idea of our lives and characters to the people
that read my Thoughts, for they would think we were up late

nights, so I have fixed it like this:
IMPATIENCE

We dug our rose cakes up oh! all too soon,
We thought their sweetness would be such a boon.

We ne'er suspicioned they would not be done
After three days of autumn wind and sun.

Why did we from the earth our treasures draw?
Twas not for fear that rat or mole might naw,

An aged aunt doth say impatience was the reason,
She says that youth is ever out of season.

That is just as Aunt Jane said it, and it gave me the thought for
the poem which is rather uncommon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A DREADFUL QUESTION

September, 187--
WHICH HAS BEEN THE MOST BENEFERCENT INFLUENCE ON CHARACTER--

PUNISHMENT OR REWARD?
This truly dreadful question was given us by Dr. Moses when he

visited school today. He is a School Committee; not a whole one
but I do not know the singular number of him. He told us we could

ask our families what they thought, though he would rather we
wouldn't, but we must write our own words and he would hear them

next week.
After he went out and shut the door the scholars were all plunged

in gloom and you could have heard a pin drop. Alice Robinson
cried and borrowed my handkerchief, and the boys looked as if the

schoolhouse had been struck by lightning. The worst of all was
poor Miss Dearborn, who will lose her place if she does not make

us better scholars soon, for Dr. Moses has a daughter all ready
to put right in to the school and she can board at home and save

all her wages. Libby Moses is her name.
Miss Dearborn stared out the window, and her mouth and chin shook

like Alice Robinson's, for she knew, ah! all to well, what the
coming week would bring forth.

Then I raised my hand for permission to speak, and stood up and
said: "Miss Dearborn, don't you mind! Just explain to us what

benefercent' means and we'll write something real interesting;
for all of us know what punishment is, and have seen others get

rewards, and it is not so bad a subject as some." And Dick Carter
whispered, "GOOD ON YOUR HEAD, REBECCA!" which mean he was sorry

for her too, and would try his best, but has no words.
Then teacher smiled and said benefercent meant good or healthy

for anybody, and would all rise who thought punishment made the
best scholars and men and women; and everybody sat stock still.

And then she asked all to stand who believed that rewards
produced the finest results, and there was a mighty sound like

unto the rushing of waters, but really was our feet scraping the
floor, and the scholars stood up, and it looked like an army,

though it was only nineteen, because of the strong belief that
was in them. Then Miss Dearborn laughed and said she was thankful

for every whipping she had when she was a child, and Living
Perkins said perhaps we hadn't got to the thankful age, or

perhaps her father hadn't used a strap, and she said oh! no, it
was her mother with the open hand; and Dick Carter said he

wouldn't call that punishment, and Sam Simpson said so too.
I am going to write about the subject in my Thought Book first,

and when I make it into a composition, I can leave out anything


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