The wind has blown a gale all day from the N.W. and the air has been full of drifting snow. I drove down town after dinner on some business in a sleigh. While I was gone a telegram was received from Mr. Knight from New Haven saying he would come up on the 6 o'clock train. No boat goes over to that train and he will be compelled to remain over there all night. Alice and the baby have been very bright today, but the little nurse girl was obliged to leave. It is a very wild night and I am thankful for this cosy fireside where I sit alone in the parlor. I thought such nights would bring me unhappy suggestions of Gertrude out in the cold and the snow, but they do not. I cannot think of her there. The elements cannot harm her and yet she is so far beyond my protection. I cannot keep the feeling of waiting to be with her again. I had a letter from John Sanford today in which he spoke of my bereavement with touching and eloquent tenderness.
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