Another cool and sober day with fine clouds effects, a day full of memories. I have been over at my studio painting a little on Gertrudes portrait which grows to look more like her and yet is not satisfactory. Henry has been at work on my place carrying up and piling the posts he cut from the three chestnut trees and clearing away the brush and debris. Sara came over and we went through the empty rooms of my house up stairs and indulged in many memories of dear Gertrude. It has been one of the days when I have thought of her all through the day and missed her so sadly and have felt the dull pain at my heart which cannot give up longing for her. I had a letter from Eastman, one he wrote on the 13th at East Hampton and had just discovered in his pocket. He spoke of my studio and of the satisfaction it would be to me, and of my going through the empty house and seemed to think I bear all this better than he could have believed. A telegram came from Church telling me we must start from N.Y. the 2nd instead of the 3rd as we are to meet at Mattewamkeag on the morning of the 3rd. I answered it and shortly after came a letter which I have answered this evening. My father is not well. I hope he will be better before I leave. He was ill last year when I went away and it caused me great uneasiness. A letter from Mr. Pell, giving an account of a trip to Coney Island.