June 10, 1859
I decided to give up galloping yesterday. I know that sounds strange, but let me explain.
I was sitting in our carriage, waiting impatiently for my mother. I was just ending my umpteenth sigh when the carriage gave a violent jerk and started rushing down the bumpy road. I grabbed wildly at the window sill and looked out, just in time to see our old negro driver lying motionless, with a whip in his hand, on the dusty dirt road. I screamed for help above the loud thumping of the horses hooves. In a moment, another set of thumping hooves was added to the ones in front of me. I looked back and saw my brother racing toward me, his hair flying. He caught up with the carriage, then the horses pulling it. He leaned over and his lips started moving. Gradually, the horses slowed and I could tell the wildflowers apart once again. My brother turned the horses around and we went home.
So now you see why I'm frightened of galloping, and even trotting. I may never gallop again, but I seriously doubt that. I just need time to get the up the courage. Mother is calling, so I must go.
Your devoted friend,