Saturday, Nov 27, 1880 Painted, but aimlessly all forenoon on the little portrait and then rubbed it all off. The Literary Club met here in the evening. There was a large attendance and Calverts essay on "Play" earned a good deal of discussion and was very favorably received. A letter from Weir in which he intimates that I write with restraint which I hardly understand. I am to leave for New York Monday and a thousand sorrowful suggestions take possession of me and I am full of discouraging thoughts. I have a great deal of money to pay soon and I dont feel as though my work will be wanted. We are full of anxiety here at home and I feel as I have half my life that we are on the edge of disaster. All depends upon what I can do in the near future. I had a momentary dream of dear Gertrude last night, just as several times before, a moment out of our past life and then I awoke. O if I could have a long dream of her, which has never been permitted to me yet. In these sorrowful days I think of her constantly, and I try to console myself with the thought that she is spared a share of my unhappiness.
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