As I had peeked through a Cloud,
To see that which was not allowed,
Like the flash from a Falling Star,
Winged Messengers appear so far.
We're ascending up a narrow Path,
Which are to make one realize that,
A Place of peace and love does exist,
To be taken in whole, do no resist,
As the Pearly Gates are opened,
Arch Angels shall be summoned,
On a tree branch sat a White Dove,
Welcoming you to the world above.
I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...