Sunday, June 7, 1885 The wind has blown all day from the south giving a forlorn and melancholy expression to the day in marked contrast to the rich and joyous feeling of yesterday. After breakfast I wrote a long letter to Royal Reed about getting birch bark braid for me. Now that I have lost Charlies cooperation by Joes childish act I must find some one to take his place. I do not understand a nature which can find satisfaction in such ignoble acts. The worst of it is I am afraid Joe is incapable of ever regretting it sincerely. After dinner I drove my father out for a ride. We went with Toby and the light wagon through Jacobs Valley to Wilbur, crossed the bridge at the stream mill and drove out on the road behind Vly Mountain to where it ended at a house. I was never there before nor was my father. We returned by the old road from Wilbur to Kingston and home. John and Nannie drove up just before tea and took tea with us and remained some time after. I came across this bit of dear Gertrudes handiwork in a bundle of old linen handkerchiefs she put up years ago for use in case of wounds etc. I remembered Calvert designed this monogram for me and she [inked?] it lovingly and deftly upon some of my handkerchiefs. This thing remains while she is gone--dear, darling Gertrude. What a blessing I have in constantly reflecting upon her most beautiful nature. Time only glorifies it. It does not exhaust its unfailing interest.