Excerpt from Diary of Mrs. Kitty Trevylyan, 1886: A Story of the Times of Whitefield and the Wesleys

Mother always said that on the day I became sixteen she would give me a book of my own, in which to keep a Diary. I have wished for it ever since I was ten, because Mother herself always keeps a Diary; and when anything went wrong in the house, when Jack was provoking, or Father was passionate with him, or when our maid Betty was more than usually wilful, or our man Roger more than usually stupid, - she would retire to her own little light closet over the porch, and come out again with a serenity on her face which seemed to spread over the house like line weather.

And in that little closet there is no furniture but the old rocking-chair, in which Mother used to rock us children to sleep, and a table covered with a white cloth, with five books on it - the Bible, Mr. Herbert"s Poems, Bishop Taylor"s "Holy Living and Dying," Thomas a Kempis on the "Imitation of Christ," and the Diary.

The four printed books I was allowed to read, but (except the Bible) they used in my childish days to seem to me very gloomy and grave, and not at all such as to account for that infectious peacefulness in Mothers face and voice.

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