Another year has past. April with her smiles and tears—smiles of joy because she has conquered storm, winter and tears of sympathy for his misfortunes—is with us once more. I have entered upon the Spring of another year and my journal, wilt thou go with me? Wilt thou bear record of the scenes through which I pass, rejoice with me when I rejoice and when clouds cross the way in which I must pass, will thou bear the shadows too?

And to you, may I come to impart the varied thoughts and feelings that pass through my mind—come with my follies and faults, hopes and dreams which ambitions bestows and