Monday, Mar 13, 1882 Went over to the cemetery for the first time this winter. An inexpressible melancholy has had possession of me. I thought it would be a relief to go and look at the spot where dear Gertrude lies but I think it only made me feel more sad. Then I walked out on the Commons out to the "View" and her letter in which she said how sad she would be should she ever walk here alone when I was gone, but that most likely she would go first came to my mind. Dear loving heart. She is the ideal of all charming womankind. I was reading in the Tribune the death of the Duchess of Essex I think who was once a very popular actress and a lovely and excellent woman. Such women were of her type. Gertrude I think with the proper training would have been able to do any thing on the lyric or dramatic stage because she had that unusual charm which is the gift of God. No one but myself can ever half understand the infinite loss she is to me. As I sat in the parlor and looked at her silent piano I felt afresh what a charm life had lost when her lovely voice was hushed in death. O how can I bear the coming years which must be fuller and fuller of sorrow for me. Reluctantly came down to town by the evening train. I went to the club and had some supper and then came to my room feeling tired[?] and very sad.