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1. "He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city."
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2. Duty before feeling; business before pleasure; principle before interest.
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3. "Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it." In Him. I will trust.
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Dined at Dr. Candler's.
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Cold and cloudy morning; sunny noon: rainy evening; windy and warm night with stars here and there sparkling on a dark background.
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3rd. Sunday. Very cold: Found the water in my room frozen this morning. 34ﾟ F. evening.
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Dr. Candler gave two very edifying sermons today. The essence of his discourse this morning was: That to be righteous needs efforts and that a success is never denied to honest efforts. "The instinct", he said, "of a sincere heart open to God is the best guide in moral questions"
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He preached on faith in the night. The substance:―
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1. There is no difference between a historical and a justifying faith.
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2. We are saved not by our faith in our faith but our faith in God. Some think that feeling good is faith. But when a crisis comes to them to choose between God or world, they go with the latter. That's not faith which hasn't faith enough in the goodness and power of God to stand by Him. "Daring to stand with God against the world is faith".
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3. Many people pray for faith. They might as well pray for walking! God has given us the means and conditions of walking; our business is to walk. He has given us the evidences and conditions for faith: our business is to believe. "Lord give us faith" viz., "Lord help us to believe you" viz., "Lord help us to believe that you have not lied!"
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4th. Monday. Very cold.
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The ice over the surface of the water in my bucket was thicker than that found yesterday. 24ﾟF. this morning.
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Wrote to Walter Spencer. In the last paragraph said I. "Haven't heard from the Dear. dearer. dearest Mrs. Hoss for a long time. I write her regularly and it gives me pleasure to do so." Yes I love her and everybody connected with her. It seems as if my affections for my darling mother were transfered to Mrs. Hoss. Why doesn't she write me a line? Of course she has no reason to cherish any degree of love for me. Besides, she has so many objects of affection. The case is different with me. My attachment to her is similar to Edgar A. Poe's to Mrs. Helen Stannard.
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6th. Wednesday. Very cold this morning.
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In the Soph. Bible Class Dr. Candler in commenting on the courage and virtues of Esther gave some fine and forceful remarks. In substance he said:―
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1. Riches and beauty are two things that are very rarely consecrated to God.
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2. Woman's suffrage means everybody's suffering. Her business is to be the queen of the home. You ask "Isn't Frances Willard a good woman?" Yes: very god; but politics are none of her business. Isn't she smart? Yes: very smart; only she wasn't made for voting. I would rather see her in heaven than at the ballot box. (And I shall all her in heaven long before she can vote.)
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8th. Friday. Cold and bright.
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Wrote to dear Mrs. Hoss:―
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"I never thought it likely that Oxford would get very cold. But I was mistaken. For several days past, water freezes in my room most nights and sometimes in day time. Am enjoying cold weather, however.
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"Nothing unusual to disturb the monotony of the college routine. A S.C. boy, named Wilson, had to go home or rather had to be taken home on account of lunatic fits. This state of mind was brought on by excessive use of cigaretts. When he got into a fit-and that he did many times an hour-he poured out 'cusses' in an unbroken stream. One evening Dr. Candler called on him. Seeing the Dr, Wilson cried out "oh! look at that bob-tailed money; Take him out! Quick!" Then followed a long string of 'cusses' of the queerest and worst kinds.
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"Am waiting for an answer from Dr. Allen in regard to my next movement. In case of his telling me come back to Shanghai―which is most likely―I shall have to go to Nashville on my way to San Francisco, sometime in June. Shall then have the real joy of seeing you and also the real pain of bidding you goodbye. There are only a few―very few―friends in America whom I feel most reluctant to part with, and you are the best of them. You have been to me what Mrs. Helen Stannard was to Edger Allan Poe in his lonely boyhood, and his grateful affection for her was no deeper than mine for you. The blessings of the Almighty be on you and yours always!
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“My sincere love to Dr. Hoss. Kind regards to Misses Ollie and Mary."
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Wrote to Bro. N.H.D. Wilson: among other things I said:―
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"Rest assured you are not forgotten by me either in my memory, or in my heart or in my prayers. I remember you; I love you; I pray for you.
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"Dr. Candler is a man of great force. He is the only man who keeps me awake in the church at night services, which is saying much. He is intensely practical, not in the low sense of dollars and cents, but in a higher signification of the word. He never meddles with theological unknowables which please a few; profit none; and perplex all."
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1.That the Diary shall be kept as far as possible in letterforms. The correspondent may be a real or a fictitious name; the letters may be sent or kept; just so they record what I care to put in the Diary.
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2. That every new date shall begin on a new page.
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My dear Mrs. Abbie H.(Not sent.)
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It seemed as if everything had determined to go wrong yesterday. It rained all day, to begin with. After dinner I had to work in the laboratory answering some problems in Gaze's Manual-which business I hated because of my inability for doing anything that involves higher mathematical principles than I know. But the worst thing happened in our society in the morning. Thus:―
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On account of some elections, the debate was done away with. All went on smoothly except Coleson and Bowden disturbed and annoyed the Society by blowing a French harp now and them in defiance to the rule of the Society, the censure of the President, and the disapproval of all the loyal members. While the last roll was being called Bowdon had the impudent disrespect enough to blow it again. Nath Thompson who seems to have been on the watch seized the offender by the collar and literally "shook" him down stairs as a bulldog would a rabbit;―these two animals, by the way, just about represent the relative physical build and strength of the two boys. They were set apart by other boys. Then all went up to the Hall. While B. stood by fire among the crowd, Nath, with an unpardonable haste and passion, slapped B.'s cheek. The interference of the cooler boys prevented further outrages. My views on the matter;―
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Coleson and B. behaved very mean insulting the Society by their actions. That every sensible member who loves order was indignant at their rudeness goes with-out saying. But what right had Nath to pull the offender down without any official warrant? B. did not respect the laws of the Society. True; but who authorized Nath to violate the rights of an individual? There is such a thing as righteous indignation. Yes, I know that; but isn't there such a thing as ungoverned passion? Nath's intention was right. Sure enough so; but does that justify a wrong action? The meannesses of fools ought to be stopped, somehow. Certainly; but because a food acts a pig should a Christian play a goose? The same end could not have been reached by and through society laws. Granted for the sake of argument: but if we justify wrong means by ends where shall we stop? If a man were allowed to jump upon another without being called and warranted by the authorities of the Society, would it be possible to preserve an organization?
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Thus Nath was wrong in his conduct. I heartily condemn it. But I respect him for his courage; trust him in his sincerity; love him for his generous heart. You would― I know-agree with me, if you were acquainted with this noble, puritanic, Christian youth.
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In our prayer meeting last night Nath wept like a child for the "sin" he had committed this morning. I don't think a mean soul could weep if it would.
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My dear Mrs. Hoss, this has been a happy Sabbath. In spite of the damp air, coffee-given-headache, cold and gloomy weather, the Sun has shone bright in my soul. You may gather my experience from the "wandering thoughts" below:―
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1. I dare not invite an honored friend to my room without first making it clean and neat as possible. How dare I invite my Lord to my heart unless it be purged of filthy thoughts?
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2. God in the heart; this is religion.
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3. It is an exceedingly pleasant yet solemn thought that the soul will continue its self conscious state through experiences unknown and time without end.
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You may smile, dear Mamma, that all this has been thought of and said on by others. Indeed I would never give a fig for these thoughts did I not feel it in my heart deriving peace and sweetness therefrom.
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Our regular pastor, Bro. Eakes, preached tonight. A very good sermon it was. The essence was: There can be reformation without religion, but no religion without reformation. “He is ready to die who is ready to live."
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Dearest Ma. I love you. Good night!
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Answered Mr. Ch. Baumgardener's letter. Among other things, said I:―
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"The weather here has been very bad for the week or so past. Rain without stop ever since last Sunday night. Mud is ankle deep and sticks closer than a brother. An suffering from a bad cold―in common with most boys.
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"Marvin Hall is my boarding place. Twenty five boys eat at one table. Chicken is a rare treat; eggs are seen few and far between; milk is unknown. Ham, black coffee, potatoes, grits and plenty of a white biscuits. We all eat heartily and this our waiter graphically described when he said 'A plateful of biscuits among our boys is no more than an ear of corn thrown among hundred hogs'."
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My dear Mamma: For the first time in the week we had a really bright, sunny day. Very cold though.
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It seems to me I cannot live without loving somebody or even something. I love you; and this week I indulged myself in the pleasure of imagining I were going to Nashville to see dear you.
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After dinner called on Dr. Candler. He is just recovering from a bad "grippe". Seeing me reading your Advocate, he, smiling, said "That's Mrs. Hoss' paper. She makes a good paper." Very likely he referred to my remark I had made in a letter to his wife last year that you were the Editor-in-Chief of the Advocate.
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Was exceedingly charmed by an account of "A Voyage on the Grand Canal" from a journal of Rich. Henry Dana. The whole piece―the description of persons and places―is free from prejudiced sarcasms, yet withal so simple, natural and graceful. What a difference between this and Mrs. Wilson's letters from China! One is sympathetic and kindly; the other, repulsive in language and pessimistic in observation, though written by a woman―a Christian woman―the wife of a bishop.
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Received J.L. Bruce's wedding card. So, every one of the theological graduates of '90 has crossed the Rubicon.
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(Above letter not sent)
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20th. Wednesday. 34ﾟF―1 1/9ﾟC.
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My darling Mamma: Two Summers ago on my return to W.H. from Bigbyville, a boy said to me that he had been dying to see me. I knew he didn't mean 1/10 what he said. But really I am dying to see you, dear Ma. Oh inexpressible yearning, this!
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Hard rain all Sunday night and yesterday. Damp and gloomy weather today.
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Our board is getting very poor. Nothing but ham and biscuits for breakfast and supper. Those―I am one of them―who do not drink coffee had to go without anything to wet our lips with. The well water is very muddy, but even this the lazy waiter very seldom gives us.
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Mrs. Abbie H: My dearest Mamma:
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Yesterday was "as bright as a dollar" So it is today. This lovely day makes me feel food.
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Enjoyed all the services yesterday, except the evening sermon which as usual put me to sleep. Was surprised to see a lady with a set of mustache more voluminous than I ever expect to turn out myself.
78
Last Saturday morning I met Mrs. Abbot, Atlanta. She had come to the College to see Ben, her son. She said that she had the charge of a Chinese S.S. in her church and that she wanted me to come and address her people on Missions. She is a Baptist. She must be a large hearted, sensible and thoroughly Christian woman to be engaged in a work like that.
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Dear Ma, I love you so much that were I to write you as often as I think of you, I would have to do nothing but write.
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(This letter sent, the endearing terms, Mamma and love, being omitted)
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Mrs Abbie Hoss: My dearest Mamma:
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This has been a really beautiful day. The azure sky without a spot of clouds; the breeze just cold enough to invigorate the body; the Sun just warm enough to cheer the spirit. I would have been meaner than a dog if I did not thank the great God not so much for the glorious aspect of nature as for my capability of enjoying such.
85
After dinner, went up to Dr. Candler's intending to walk out thence to Big Rock. Found Mrs. Candler as genial as the day. We took out blankets to the yard; spread them on grassy spot; and on them Mrs. Candler, John, Fonzie, Charley Roberts, Brooks, Jim M. and myself held a feast of social talk made all the more savory by goodly oranges fresh from the sunny orchards of Florida. Four tiny puppies, the progeny of Maude, proved no mean addition to the innocent gathering.
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The S.S. being over, with John and Boland, I took a walk as far as to the Lover's Leap―a small fall―about a mile from Oxford.
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My mind has not been altogether from perplexities. In his letter received last week, Dr. Allen told me that this being a rare opportunity I needed not be in a hurry and that I could, at present, do as much good for the cause here as in the field. I thought this advice voiced the combined judgment of the Doctor and Prof. Bonnell. But no. The latter whose answer reached me yesterday, expects me to return this summer giving me directions for the same in regard to traveling expenses. Now the question: How shall I decide? O God, if thou seest it best for me and thy cause to stay here another year, direct thy providence so; if not, thou know'st what is best.
88
My dear Ma, what is your opinion in this matter? My fear is, if I were to stay another year besides this I might likely lose the confidence of some of my Vanderbilt friends. Ma. write me freely.
89
Good night, my dear Ma.
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