Good Night, Belovedest. Your Sleep Will Be

My Life Is A Perfect Graveyard Of Buried Hopes.

It Was October Again ... A Glorious October, All Red And Gold, With Mellow Mornings When The Valleys Were Filled With Delicate Mists As If The Spirit Of Autumn Had Poured Them In For The Sun To Drain - Amethyst, Pearl, Silver, Rose, And Smoke-blue. The Dews Were So Heavy That The Fields Glistened Like Cloth Of Silver And There Were Such Heaps Of Rustling Leaves In The Hollows Of Many-stemmed Woods To Run Crisply Through.

If It's In You To Climb You Must -- There Are Those Who Must Lift Their Eyes To The Hills -- They Can't Breathe Properly In The Valleys.

I've Had A Splendid Time," She Concluded Happily, "and I Feel That It Marks An Epoch In My Life. But The Best Of It All Was The Coming Home.

They Keep Coming Up New All The Time - Things To Perplex You, You Know. You Settle One Question And There's Another Right After. There Are So Many Things To Be Thought Over And Decided When You're Beginning To Grow Up. It Keeps Me Busy All The Time Thinking Them Over And Deciding What's Right. It's A Serious Thing To Grow Up, Isn't It, Marilla?