July 14, 1864
Woodstock, [Somewhere, Evanston crossed out]
Very distinctly do I remember a [the crossed out] time when the writing up of my Journal was the pleasantest of tasks, if, indeed, a task at all. Every evening I sat down with my valued little friend before me, & to it I confided-[I was about to say, crossed out] to employ [ing crossed out] the usual collocation of words, "all my joys and sorrows, my hopes and fears." [But this would not be a true statement-strange to tell, crossed out] Some of my friends criticise me for being too ready to make "the public" of our this delectable village [little town crossed out] acquainted with my private concerns, and the very best one of them all, berated me with real asperity, the other evening, about what she was pleased to call my "eternal frankness."
Perhaps I am not reticent enough, and yet, I should not concede the point without a spirited debate, I know, and if fairly beaten in the argument, should sieze the dilemma by the other horn and claim, as my chief virtue this very frankness which so much annoys my well-intentioned mentors. [Ta crossed out] Taking the first position now & here, I will assert, that nothing of a strictly personal nature ever found its way into my Journals. To be sure, I used to write there, sentences like this, bristling with exclamation points, loop-holed with the interjection letter, & blatant with veal, I unshrinkingly admit:-"0, if only I had some dear friend how happy I should be! Alone I walk the ocean trand of life. 0, How I wish I knew some one who had such dreams, such hopes as thrill my heart! Should I not, 0 should I not be better as well as happier if this were the case?" Now, "provided" I had taken the page on which this aspiration was written, while yet the ink was moist & glistening thereon, & hastening to the most public street [had crossed out] read it in my shrillest tones, I maintain that I should not have been unduly frank. Without doubt, I should have said the same to any one with whom a conversation on the very interesting subject of friendship was announced; for though I used to imagine that my Journal was the sole confident that I permitted myself, I am fully convinced upon careful retrospection that this was no such thing. Well, granting this, and as much more of the same sort as you please, where is the unwarrantable frankness? Doesn't everybody feel just so? Isn't it a broad, salient feature of universal human nature