Did not sleep very well, was probably too tired. Went out into the woods and reread my letters. Sade always writes so sweetly of darling Gertrude and I never grow weary thinking of her. Indeed here I am not enough alone to think of her as I would like to. It is only at night after I am in bed and the camp is still that I can be with her. Wrote in my letter to Sara and a letter to Emma French. Evening clear and quiet.