Recently I read the “Diary Of A Bible.” I do not know the author. Any one of millions of Bibles covered in dust could have written the following:
January 10. Been resting for a week. The first few nights of the New Year my owner read me regularly, but he has now forgotten me already, I guess.
February 7. Clean up time. I was dusted with other things and then put back on the shelf.
February 9. Owner used me for a short time after dinner looking over a few references. Went to Bible school today.
March 6. Clean up. Dusted again. Have been in the hall since my trip to Bible school last month.
March 30. Busy day. Owner had young people’s meeting and had to look up references. He had an awful time finding them but they were there all the time.
May 3. In Grandma’s lap again this afternoon. She spent most of her time in 1st Corinthians 13 and the last four verses of the 15th chapter.
May 7, 8, 9. In Grandma’s lap again this afternoon. She spent most of her time reading and sometimes she just talks to me. It is so comfortable there.
May 10. Grandma is gone. Back to the same old place. She did kiss me bye before she left.
July 3. Had a couple of four-leaf clovers stuck in me today.
July 4. Packed in a suitcase with clothes and other things. Off on vacation I guess.
July 7. Still in suitcase.
July 10. Still in suitcase, though all else has been taken out by now.
July 15. Home again in my old place. Quite a nice journey they say, though I did not see why.
Aug. 1. Rather stuffy and hot. Have two magazines, a novel and an old hat on top of me.
Sept. 10. Used by Mary for a few minutes today. She was writing a letter to a friend whose brother died and wanted
appropriate verses.
Sept. 23. New mail order catalogue came today. Certainly is getting a lot of attention. More than I ever received.
Oct. 10. Wished someone would take these stinking four-leaf clovers out of me. They have been here five months now, and they tickle me, they are so dry and flaky.
Nov. 29. Thanksgiving season. Was taken to church last Sunday.
Dec. 31. End of another year. Not interesting for me. Maybe next year.
(“The Pointer,” Volume VI, Number 31, October 13, 1974.)
Guardian of Truth XXVII: 1, p. 21
January 6, 1983