Thursday, Aug 27, 1885 Still the wind from the North and the temperature Autumnal. There was frost in portions of the North and all day it has seemed like a quiet, October day. I took my father out for a ride. We went down town and then to the Point to give Park a swim and got home for dinner. He sat on the back porch a while after dinner and then laid down while I worked in my mothers flower garden and when he got up I made a fire in the parlor for him, by which I sat alone and read this evening until Mary and Sara came home by the Powell. They had two glorious days for their trip to the city. Tom is at work digging up the drain from the cellar and it is pretty slow work on account of the web work of the roots from the Elm tree in front of the parlor window. John McEntee, Girard and I are thinking of a fishing trip on Saturday to the head of the Rondout but have not positively decided yet. To me it will be a prospecting trip to see if I can find some sketching. Julia Dillon called just as my father and I were getting ready for our ride. She is to be at Johns while Nannie is in Boston for two or three weeks. Coming to my room as I did this evening with the moonlight outside and the vague shadows within makes me think of my dear Gertrude and her shadow lingering among these other shadows. I think of her and long for her whom I think of her as for the one supreme joy of my whole life vanished. Her tenderness, her grace, her sweet womanly instincts, her devotion to me are the treasures of my memory which never grow commonplace and never lose their inexpressible charm.