Sunday, Mar 8, 1885 My father seems to be gaining slowly and is able to help himself more, but is very sober and sad. I think he is troubled about me and my struggles to get on. He says but little about it but I can see that if I had some cheerful news to impart it would make him feel better. It was wintry cold today. Girard drove out to Mr. Burhans with the sleigh and tram. He said it was bitterly cold going out. Sara and Nannie went to Kingston one day last week when the sleigh upset and the horse (Toby) ran about the streets and nearly demolished the little cutter which belonged to Maurice and which I had put in order this last fall. But I am thankful no one was hurt. I have felt so sad and strange today, as I have so often felt before, that we are on the eve of trouble and disaster. I see plainly it is all owing to my not being able to sell my pictures, and so troubling about the money [to?] carry on the place. I think of dear Gertrude here wherever I turn. [I?] never enter my room that I do not mentally utter her blessed name and sigh for her with a never ending pain at my heart. Sometimes I wish we could sell out every thing and go away from here. Perhaps the change would keep me from many sad and trying memories. Sara and I talk and talk over our affairs but can see no other thing to do but to go on as we are going on doing the best we can, well knowing how any plans we may make are liable to be entirely frustrated. Thinking of my dear Mother and Gertrude, they seem to me blest, at rest and freed from the sorrows that we who are left must bear, and sadly as I think of them how could I wish them back to struggle and sigh as we do. My poor Mother knew what it was and I trust and believe she has found that peace this life could not give.