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Wednesday, June 2nd. Very warm and pleasant. Carrie and I sat in the front chamber all day busily employed with our needles though it is but fair to add that our tongues kept time to our fingers. Harriet sits in her own room most of the time now, stitching away, for she is getting ready to be married and therefore has plenty to do. Carrie and I lend our aid whenever it is needed, but when it is not we generally sit in some other room where we can talk once in a while without annoying anyone else. Harriet is talkative enough herself, nevertheless occasionally she gravely reminds her younger sisters that they should not talk so much - they would accomplish twice as much while sewing if they did not but then I fancy that her "unruly number" makes amends for the quietness of the day when evening brings with it the presence of her dear Douglas. It reminds me of what Mother said one day. "Emma, you must not rock when you are sewing - it's lazy!" I stopped rocking and sewing at once, quite overcome with the amusing originality of the remakr. Towards evening I received a long letter from Ellen Leager. Its contents were very interesting and I did nothing but pore over it all the evening. The letter was eight pages long and seemed but the outpouring of a loving and confiding heart. Yet it does not satisfy her, and she says she longs to sit as she has so often done in my lap in the rocking chair in the back parlor and tell me every feeling of her soul.

Oh dearest Ellen, how I longed for you this night! Poor child! surrounded by so many dangers and trepidations - she says she would feel safe if I was by her side, but I can do nothing but weep and pray.