Monday, Mar 12, 1883 My mother did not seem as bright as usual today and seems discouraged. My poor dear mother who has always been so active and so helpful cannot reconcile herself to being obliged to be helped even to move. I am reading George Sands "Historie de ma vie"[.] Her account of her Grandmothers illness and death is very touching and filled me with sadness. It seems to me a similar grief is close to us, and I feel a sense of culpability that I cannot be near by dear mother all the time. Downing and I walked down to the post office and around where the Cornell Store houses burned. They are rapidly rebuilding them and the charred skeleton of the "City of Catskill" lies in front, imbedded in the ice. We went along the dock through the snow & water, for it was [?] clear up to the high bridge which they are pushing ahead. Then up through the tunnel and home by the cemetery where I saw from the path dear Gertrudes grave covered with snow from which the stalks of last years flowers appeared. What unutterable thoughts it brought to me.