To tell the plain honest truth: May, 1876

Monday, May 1, 1876. Letters from M.C. today. Good long ones.
 
Thursday, May 4, 1876. Mama has been trying or rather fixing some of her dresses on me today & I feel so big.
 
Friday, May 5, 1876. I have been trying to think how long Lily’s dresses were last winter—longer than mine I guess.
 
Sunday, May 7, 1876. Oh! Henry is so distressingly fat. I try to make him “taut” & get rid of some of his flesh, but oh its of no earthly use.
 
Tuesday, May 9, 1876. Pill—however came the girls to call you that, dear Lily? It is simply horrid. Don’t allow it.
 
Friday, May 12, 1876. Mr. Cherbonnier came. He is very very nice. So gentlemanly.
 
Tuesday, May 16, 1876. To tell the plain honest truth, love, you don’t write me half long enough letters & it’s real mean. You can’t be so awfully busy as not to be able to write me at the very least 8 pages.

Saturday, May 20, 1876. Mama and I were confirmed today in the chapel of our church—Christ Church, St. Louis, Mo.
 
Monday, May 22, 1876. Have been practising on piano all day since I came from school.
 
Tuesday, May 23, 1876. Mr. Fuechlich (music teacher) came. Said I “did not bractize” most emphatically, & what a shame after all I practised yesterday!
 

One of many models of phaetons.

Friday, May 26, 1876. Our teacher in Entomology gave us girls today some silk worms to raise & experiment. I am delighted with the idea! I have four worms to commence with. This is my last day at school as we start for N.C. Monday.  

Saturday, May 27, 1876. Have been out all day on a farewell jolly trip with my girl friends. We all took the phaeton & drove out to the park for violets, & oh! what a gay time we did have!
 
Monday, May 29, 1876. We all started for Notch Cliff today. Have left school for the three remaining weeks & am glad of it—so glad. I should be over-frantically (will you allow the expression beloved?) happy if I had my Lily right here in my arms—you bet.
 

Notch Cliff, in Elsah, Illinois.

Tuesday, May 30, 1876. N.C. is just the same as ever. Weather lovely. It doesn’t seem now as though I could ever get lonesome up here, but never-the-less it is a sad fact—I do very often.
 
Wednesday, May 31, 1876. The horrid bugs that always fly about lamps are particularly annoying tonight. Is it an omen of good or evil—I would give most anything if I had influence in one matter only!