Celestia Rice and June Rose Colby Collection

How vein it seems to mark our lives, By numbering o'er the fleeting years [Not Time alone - underlined] its imprets gives, But sickness sorrow, strife and tears. And o'er the soul an hour [underlined] may fling it deeper darker shade of woe - they wound us with a sharper sting, Than trampling years [underlined] as they come and go. A word, perchance from one we loved May turn life's sweetness into gall, And time that once so fleetly moved Will slowly drag its weary thrall.

26th The history of another week is written in the book of time. I cannot now erase the record of one single moment. All is sealed up "waiting to be reopened in Eternity." How happy I should be, if, on reviewing the past week I saw nothing traced upon its pages but that which is right [underlilned] Holy Father [frgive the wrong, - underlined] and strengthen thy erring child in the way of truth and holiness. O give me the victory over [myself- underlined] through "Him who hath loved us," and shed his blood for our salvation. 27th Bear, from Romans 13th 14th

27 Monday Eve. I am weary, very weary tonight. The day has been one of toil, but it has passed away and, the twilight of another day is with us in all its peculiar beauty. I love this quiet hour, yet it is not often I can so fully enjoy it as in days gone bye, when I was more free from care.

29th I have just been looking over a bundle of [old - underlined] [letters, - underlined] traced by the hands of [friends - underlined], one of whom sleeps in death, another [perhaps - underlined] has gone. How

August 6th 1851 A.D.

Last night I arose after midnight, when all else were locked in the sweet embrace of slumber, to look at the stars, hoping to catch a glimpse of my favorite stars, the belt of Orion. at which Cynthia and I have so often gazed together. It was just rising above the eastern horizon. Oh what recollections of the shadowy past thronged upon me, and in every scene of gladness the image of my lost friend was sweetly blended. But she has gone where sorrws can reach her no more, to dwell forever in the light of uncreated beauty, and I a little longer must remain in a world of trial. Oh that I may so live as to meet her in the house of the soul, and dwell forever in paradise.

Aug 10th Yesterday I had a long and pleasant ramble in the woods, and found some species of flowers that I'd not remember seeing before. It is now the sabbath Hour spent it thus far alone with my child.

Aug 13th Last Monday I received the long wished for letter from Vine. It produced only the emotion of sadness in my heart. Would that I might once more see her.

15th Visited Mrs N..... this afternoon. It was quite like the generality of my visits..I do not know but that I am [unsocial - underlined] in my disposition I seldom have a [good visit - underlined] I go more for customs sake that than with any expectation of pleasure. There are exceptions, but as a [general thing - underlined], I find more [real pleasure - underlined] in solitude with pen, ink, & paper and books, than the [majority - underlined] of visits afford me. The reason is this: I find but [few - underlined] among my associates in this neighborhood with whom I can converse on any topic that would seem to interest an immortal mind in its search for truth.

Loose Papers

They whispered in accents as sweet and low That the words they spoke I never may know For 'twas the language of Spirits, which mortals may hear But their meaning reach none but a spirit's ear.

[? stain over word] Earth is beautiful on hilltop and vale, [?] robed in moonlight so sweet and pale [?] when morning unfolds her "flood gates of light," [How beautiful - stain over some letters] is earth robed in glory most bright.

And Earth is beautiful in her robes of snow When all is so pure and so lovely below, And the moon is riding in her glory on high, How beautiful then is the evening sky.

And when Nature is rising from her [point?] of decay, With meekeyed spring, so green and [grey?] How sweet by the moons pale beams, When the soul drinks beauty from neverfailing stream

Then Summer comes all sweet and fair, And naught but perfume is breathed in the air, Andd the Angel of Beauty is hoverning below Shedding flowers from her wings like pearly snow,

Next in the train, glorious Autumn we see Where Beauty sits crowned in each leaf of the tree, And Plenty is smiling from the orchards and fields And gorgeous Nature her last treasure yields. And Earth is Beautiful when Day with Night contends And each with other her sceptre blends, Till day at last her right maintain And Night flees vanquished from the plains.

Febraury 26th 1852

Grandmother went home to day, to that rest which remaineth for the people of God. Her work has long been done, and she has been waiting for the summons to join the loved who have gone before. Death came gently as an infant's slumber, and bore her away to spirit land, leaving a smile of triumph on her brow. I can but think she is happier now than those she has left behind in this dark world.

March 21st. Last Sabbath I finished reading "Dr Dick's Works," since then I have read the "Life of James Brainerd Taylor" containing 440 pages. According to the account he was an "uncommon christian" but early called from earth to "render a perfect service above." His peace seemed constant and deep, flowing "like a river."

26th Oh that a wanderer might cease to wander, and return again to the fountain of peace and happiness.

April 11th The winter is over and gone and the voice of bird is heard in our [?]. Nature rejoices and shall I be sad. Oh that my heart were tuned to praise the Creator of the universe.

May 22 Have been musing alone while the dim shadows of night were falling around me, casting the gloom of darkness over the face of Nature. Friends that are far away seemed near in spirit. Friends but few on earth and therefore dear. "When, if ever, shall we all meet again".

June 17th Visited at home this afternoon. 20th Went to meeting this evening over the creek. Elder R. Clark preached. July 5th 6th

July 9th Time ever onward in its flight. tarries not for the record of mortals, yet all our thoughts and acts are recorded in the book of remembrance to be opened in Eternity.

Sept 18th 1853 Sunday Autmn winds have swept my heart, Rudely brushed its hopes away, Left me like a leafless tree, Mid summer's forests gay Oct 5 Attended county fair to day; among the dense mass of human faces I saw a few whose smile of recognition answered to my own, a few endeared by the memory of the [underlined: "sunny"] past. Nov 15th Our sweet little Plummer is gone "He took the cup of Life to sip For bitter 'tis to dain; He put it meekly from his lip And went to sleep again." Nov 26th How my heart yearns for thy presence sweet child. I listen in vain for the music of thy voice, for it shall greet me no more on earth. Oh why [wert?] thou taken? Earth is dark, and dreary without thee! Jan 29th 1854 I long for the presence of my angel-boy I mingle with the world Its pride and folly see Yet ever mid its ceaselss whirl My thoughts are still with thee April 3d Weary months have passed since he exchanged the parts of infancy for the joys of Heaven. July 16th My selfish heart would clasp thee still, And call thee all my own; Would lead thee back through every ill To cheer my earthly home. But no this is impossible; he is safe from sin and sorrow. Aug 24th The changes of this world sometimes

prove to be blessings in disguise, yet our selfish hearts will murmur because we cannot see the "silver lining" to every cloud

Plummer Colby

Red Birth Root.

Lillie I am thinking, [strikethrough] Lillie [strikethrough], of the past = The shadowy past which memory holds most dear. Pleasant scenes [illegible] other days hover near and forms I loved with [strikethrough] near [strikethrough] all a sister's fondness haven't me now With the "love light" in their eye and [illegible] Of [illegible] affections: But {underlined] some arre changed [underlined], some That I have loved so fondly, nor thought that Time would ever break the silken chord that Bound us in Friendship's links. Alas! That [underlined] change [unerlined] should lay its chilling hand upon The warm pulse of affection, and crush the flower of Love even when it breaketh[?]. O Lillie! can it be that [underlined] thou [underlined] art [underlined] changed [underlined]? That time [underlined] so soon [underlined] hath dried the fountains Of affection in thy heart. Or hast thou Lavished [underlined] all [underlined] thy "wealth of Love" on other objects= Thy [underlined] husband [underlined] and thy [underlined] child [underlined]. I know the [underlined] strong links [underlined] That bind us in the chains of Love to these Our dearest ones. I know a mothers love--have felt A mothers pride--a wife's devotion. I have gazed Upon my boy--with his sweet blue eye and Golden hair--and felt that earth hath not A greater treasure - save a husbands love. Yet when with these my thoughts oft turn To other days, and other friends less dear Perhaps, yet still beloved. Among the loved And cherished friends which memory in Her casket treasures "I dare to number Thee." And oft at twilight, or by moonlight I pause to think of thee, and the pleasant Hours together passed among the [illegible] walks Of "old G.R."

Letters are by me now, traced by Thy hand and breathe of affections. How oft I've read them and each time have felt

Those deep emotions of the soul which naught But [underlined] sympathy [underlined] can awake for kindred heart. Twice the changing seasons have run their Annual round, since word or token I've received From thee, and yet thou art not forgotten. The silence has been painful. Friends are [underlined] so few [underlined] on Earth I grieve to lose one. I never loved but [underlined] few [underlined] And Death has taken some, and [underlined] Change [underlined] more cruel Still has laid its blighting hand on others. I do not love to think [underlined] thee [underlined] changed but fondly fancy thou art still the same. Could I but know The course of this long silence. Have I unwittingly Offended. Oft have I questioned my heart and Tortured Thought, in [illegible] to find a reason. But all in vain. How oft I've wished with sly mesmeric art withhold To scan the secrets of they heart, Thoughts hidden founder[?] to explore And read thy "inner life" unknown before. To seek what mortals never can attain For Nature acting wisely, kindly drew The "veil" that hides each spirit from our view

March 10th 1853, [underlined] At home [underlined]

Summer[?] Oct 5th 1851. AS. A Saturday Evening Revery