Sunday, June 10, 1883 There was a fine breeze this morning and Downing and I took a ride leaving home about half past 9. We went across Kingston bridge around Hurley Mountain to the Marbletown ford where we crossed and by a cross road near Marbletown Church over to Lucas Turnpike, a road dear Gertrude and I drove the last summer of her life. It was charming along the Hurley Mountain looking over the meadows now in their full beauty. The air was loaded with the fragrance of the wild grape and clover blossoms. It was pretty warm returning as we had the wind at our back. We reached home at 130 and found they had been waiting dinner for us. We hear that Maurice is out at Stoddards place on the Saugerties road. I am in despair when I think of him.