A bee came stumbling into my room this morning, as it has done every
spring since we moved here,--perhaps not the same bee. I think there
must have been a family bee-line across this place before ever a house
was built here, and the bees are trying for it every year.

Perhaps we ought to cut a window opposite.

There's room enough in the world for me and thee; go thou and trouble
some one else,--as the man said when he put the fly out of the window.

* * * * *

Ann Maria thinks it would be better to fix upon a subject first; but
then she has never yet written a paper herself, so she does not realize
that you have to have some thoughts before you can write them. She
should think, she says, that I would write about something that I see.
But of what use is it for me to write about what everybody is seeing,
as long as they can see it as well as I do?

* * * * *

The paper about emergencies read last week was one of the best I ever
heard; but, of course, it would not be worth while for me to write the
same, even if I knew enough.

* * * * *

My commonplace-book ought to show me what to do for common things; and
then I can go to lectures, or read the "Rules of Emergencies" for the
uncommon ones.