Although I keep a diary, I don't record my smallest fault. So when I read about my past, I take it with a grain of salt. --- (Poem is written on the inside page of the 1927 diary. I'm having trouble locating this poem. I found one source that attributes it to Rebecca McCann, but I can't seem to find a second. I searched the full collection of The Cheerful Cherub, which ran for 10 years between 1916 and 1927, but I haven't been able to find this poem in it.) <img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/d/1m71N0McN21C5Ic1GhpqPKOQc2Q64VeTS">