her, often keeping but very little for herself. She is very fond
of dress and of all kinds of finery, and is very unhappy when she
finds a hole in anything she is wearing. She will insist on
having her hair put in curl papers when she is so sleepy she can
scarcely stand. She discovered a hole in her boot the other
morning, and, after breakfast, she went to her father and
spelled, "Helen new boot Simpson (her brother) buggy store man."
One can easily see her meaning.


July 3, 1887.

There was a great rumpus downstairs this morning. I heard Helen
screaming, and ran down to see what was the matter. I found her
in a terrible passion. I had hoped this would never happen again.
She has been so gentle and obedient the past two months, I
thought love had subdued the lion; but it seems he was only
sleeping. At all events, there she was, tearing and scratching
and biting Viney like some wild thing. It seems Viney had
attempted to take a glass, which Helen was filling with stones,
fearing that she would break it. Helen resisted, and Viney tried
to force it out of her hand, and I suspect that she slapped the
child, or did something which caused this unusual outburst of
temper. When I took her hand she was trembling violently, and
began to cry. I asked what was the matter, and she spelled:
"Viney--bad," and began to slap and kick her with renewed
violence. I held her hands firmly until she became more calm.

Later Helen came to my room, looking very sad, and wanted to kiss
me. I said, "I cannot kiss naughty girl." She spelled, "Helen is