Make your own free website on

Wolf's Rest --Thursday, July 10th

     Every day, now, is an anniversary to my weary Life! This Stormy warmth of July is fraught with many memories!  And do I alone remember?  Whom do I ask?  The winds?  Their sympathy gives as much unto my lonely life as aught else, now!
      I have been very ill for the last five days.  Unable to leave my bed - and alone the most of the time!  It is my wish, however - I could not bear the presence of any one - Save Madame [Mamie] - and not even her, at times!
     I know I am daily growing more and more bitter and cynical - despite my efforts - for I
have and do try to think better of all the paste and sham that must pass current for reality in this dear world of ours!  But I am sick unto death of it all!  Sick, even of myself - myself who seems to have lost heart, hope, body and soul - lost all, only an infinite power of being disgusted!
     One year ago I fancied I had found that which would make me count the hours of Life jealously - perhaps I had - but it has slipped from my grasp - or has been thrown away in madness - God only knows which!  Enough for me to feel that existence is a burden borne in a darkness that no hope lightens.
     I  feel as if I shall never go South,  now!  Mamie dreamed that the walls of my room had fallen in!

Evening, of the Same day

     I have just written a note to Mrs. Dr. [
Carver] to be carried by Herbert to "Raven's Cliff",  where Mrs. C. is now living.  "The Doctor" having go [sic] in to the [North] Platte, H[erbert] is to spend the nights during his absence with Mrs. C.  The lady and her younger son [William Pitt Carver] came out to the Medicine near a week since.  It seems strange to see them all living at the "Cliff" - all unknown, and undreamed of, this time last year!  And much later than this.

Wolf's Rest
The 11th of July

      Who, besides myself thinks of this day, with strange memories tugging at their heart-strings, when "Just one year ago today" comes back with visions of tear-ful sun-shine, dewy plains and shadowed hill-sides?
     And yet the
doubt that I feel is my work I fear!  Pshaw!
     I saw Mamie's face, dark and haggard with care or sickness, last night.  I dreamed someone whom I liked, bent and kissed my lips; and I saw her thin, sad features struggle into a smile.  Is she ill?  My poor child!  A storm is gathering:  we had a fearful storm last night!  What a
drag my life is!
     I hav'nt the heart to write.  I can not sit up over a half-hour at a time.

"Wolf's Rest"
Oct. 26th, 1873

     What strange freak, or capricious impulse has seized me this morning that I should be possessed with a desire to again pen a line in this long neglected journal?  Certainly not because of a wish to
register thought.  Ha! Ha!
     My thoughts?

I do not care to place them where
The light of day would strangely rest -
They find a fitter home within
The dungeon of my silent breast.

     I ceased to write in my journal because I was weary of the weakness of my own words.  For the same reason I shall again let my life be as a sealed book!  Until when?  Until death shall stiffen the fingers now writing these words; or until some hope brightens the rayless sky of my sunless life.

With head uncover's - cold hands clasp'd,
The wild prayer hush'd upon my lips
That tells my God how desolate -

End of First Journal

Continue to Ena's second journal

Return to Ena Palmer