The Journals of Martha E. McMillan

Martha E. McMillan Journal 1868 Transcribed and edited by Adam J. Wagner (2015) January 1 Jan. Wed. New Year’s Day. All hail to the New Year (!) 11 Jan. Sat. Still very cold. All at home. 12 Jan. Sab. Not quite so cold. James and I at church—had only one sermon. Eve. Half past six O'clock, James and I attended U.P. church—sermon by Rev. ? ? ? of Xenia— Tenet?— “But now they desire a better community, that is a heavenly.” ? quite large—Mr. Joseph Kyle took James and I into his pew. 14 Jan. Tues. A snow fell on last night, still falling this morning. J.D. Williamson with us for dinner. Eve—A peddler from Dayton with us tonight. Eve. James and I attended the Cedarville debating society at the old Baptist church— ? at—“In ?, ? music in the worship of God.” – speakers J.F. Fragrier?—B. F. ?—Rev. Mr. Morton—Filming? Teacher of the Cedarville Academy & others. James and I stopped at Mother’s—After which James C- went with us to Riley’s and Polack’s drugstore—James and I went to the ? alone, having James to come with Riley and Polack. 15 Jan. Wednesday. Bright sunshine—but rather cold. The Dayton peddler left this morning, I got a pair of shears from him—Maria attending to the kitchen department & James & fast John around home. Eve—Dr. D. R. Caldwell and Jennie here for tea—Jennie made me a nice present of a little pillow and white cases? for the same—one plain and the other ruffled. Hugh Dave called and spent a while with us. First Anniversary of our Wedding (!) Hail happy day!— the brightest of all the long glad year. As we gaze out over the distance, a golden gleam of light seems to throw its hallowed ray across the shadowy past unto the consecrated spot, the very tomb where sleep our Wedding day, and with a magic torch awakes it from its slumber to form our ground and glorious link in life’s eventful chain—the beautiful morning—its golden evening—its hallowed memory. Its every association most tender now, and love comes stealing in the memories’ door like messengers of light, and seems as life like and as seal as upon that day itself. The leafless trees—the snow covered earth—as well as the bright sunshine mingled with the winter breeze seems to mock that bright, bright day and send us back on memories’ wings, across the buried year, to live over again the happy scenes of those bygone hours. “I sit alone—alone in thought 35