Jervis McEntee Diaries

Wednesday November 1, 1882

Jervis McEntee Diary Entry, November 1, 1882, from the Jervis McEntee papers, 1850-1905, in the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution

Wednesday, Nov 1, 1882 Made a sketch this morning looking over Kingston from the rocks back of OReillys. It did not look so beautiful as it did on Monday. My sketches are very unsatisfactory. I dont seem able to get the tones of nature and each sketch I make I hope to do that. This afternoon I took a long walk through Ludlums woods and over the hills to the woods back of Steep Rocks. The color was most rich and beautiful but the tone was not so sweet and delicate as on Monday. I gathered some beautiful ferns in the place where dear Gertrude and I gathered the last we had, it must have been five years ago. How tenderly I thought of her in the quiet Autumn woods once hallowed by her beloved presence. The frost has not been sufficient to kill any of the vegetation. I found dandelions, daisies and the little wild geranium and the pastures were as green as in spring. The familiar places are changing. The woods and fields which were devastated several years ago are beginning to hide their scars under new growths and many places looked more attractive to me today than in years before. The surroundings of the town strike me afresh this Autumn with their picturesquness. I wish I did not mind sitting down to paint in public places for I see so many things I would like to get. Girard came in at noon and told us Maurice was down in the carriage house in a most forlorn condition. While I was gone Sara went down and found him lying on some blankets up stairs and brought him up to his room where he is now. He seemed to think we would not permit him to come here. He told her he did not know but his leg was broken, that he had fallen down the carriage house stairs. What a wretched life. Girard wrote to Skillman to inquire about him and he replied that he worked for the Times all week and on Saturday night came to him and said he thought as a stranger in the city his duties covered too much ground, and he gave up his place to Skillmans great regret, as he hoped it would soon lead to something better. I dont think he means to try to do anything more. A letter from Mary. Downing gets on very slowly and on Monday sat up half an hour. Booth cabled to him to join them, but poor fellow, he is helpless.

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