Friday, Oct 14, 1887 Again the anniversary of dear Gertrudes death has come round to find her memory as sweet and fresh in my soul as it was when she had been gone but one year. How many changes since then, and they come faster and faster, and now comes the great change which will take our old home from us and transplant us into new surroundings. I walked over to the cemetery after breakfast and looked upon the spot where her dear remains are mingling with the dust, by the side of those who were near and dear to her in life. The morning is still and bright and the fading landscape still bright in its autumnal dress. I feel a vague sorrow and a longing for something, I know not what; it must be for what I cannot have, "the days that are no more." I believe it would be for our happiness if we could go away from Rondout entirely or if in some way we could arrange to live with Lucy or Mary. I felt none of this sadness at Lucy's and I am sure it was because I saw nothing in my surroundings to tell me of what is gone. Sara went up to Wilbur to see Ella to get her to come here to live as Katy is going away on a visit to Ireland. I picked some lima beans for the winter. This forenoon I wrote to Mr. Sawyer [?] to Tom McEntee and this evening to George Hall whose niece Georgie lately died at Palenville.