At work all forenoon looking over letters and arranging them. A still, cloudy November day. In the afternoon my father, Tom and I hauled up the butt of the flag staff from the cement mill, a stick Joe Tomkins sent from Hillsboro. We had some trouble with it but not much. I had a very kind letter from Dr. Holland one from Mr. Huntington and one of Alices sweet letters. Dear Gertrude is so real to me and so near. It is strange that though I go to the cemetery I never think of her as being there and I am glad I did not see her laid there.