Friday October 18, 1878
Jervis McEntee Diary Entry, Friday, Oct 18, 1878, from the Jervis McEntee papers, 1850-1905, in the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution
Dr. Chapin came up at Dr. Sawyers request to officiate at the funeral, which took place at noon yesterday. The day was warm and golden, even too warm, and with considerable wind. Dr. Chapin surpassed himself in the fervor and beauty of his remarks. He read two beautiful hymns selected by Mr. Sawyer, one of them by Bryant, but no arrangement had been made for singing and there was none. We had no hearse and no [?] hands to put her to rest, it was all done by our family. A large concourse of people came to pay her their last honors and they were dismissed after the service and Dr. Chapin announced that the burial would be attended to by the family. Cousin John McEntee, Maurice, Girard, Jno. Andrews, Calvert, Joseph Tomkins and Fred Norton carried her to the grave on a bier and Calvert and [blank] staid and filled the grave and covered it with evergreens and flowers. Most of the family walked over to the cemetery, but Lucy, Sade and I did not go. Poor dear old Mrs. Winter came up from N.Y. to the funeral not knowing when it would take place but coming at a venture. Sara started for Boston this morning. She needed rest and wanted to be with Alice. The skies are soft and grey today and it has rained a little. Alice asked me to place some white roses in Gertrudes hands for her and then to send them to her which I did with the following lines.
Last roses of my happy summer time
[?]opping from resting hands I place in thine
in clasp of love their long and sweet caress
shall make again in wonted tenderness
fading, failing pulses beating slow
immortal beauty in their hearts of snow.
It has rained all day today. Calvert and Tom [?] and his wife left this morning. I have had [?] consoling letters from Mrs. Stoddard, Whittredge, [?], Rev Butler, the Stedmans. The world seems full of smypathy for me and of sweet remembrance of Gertrude. Now as I am about to go to bed again for the first time since her death in our own bed the wind is blowing and the rain is falling. It does not trouble me as I feared it would with dismal suggestions. A storm can do her no harm and I do not think [?] as exposed to it. I have felt very calm the most of the day. The house is filled with our people which makes it cheerful, but how it will be when they are gone I cannot tell. Mary will go on Monday and take Marian with her, but Lucy and the children will be here and Gussie I hope will stay some [?] and Sara will be back on Monday. I have a [?] cold but I hope it will soon pass off and not [?] me into a headache.
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