Sunday, Apr 6, 1884 The mountains white with snow and looking as wintry as at any time during the winter. I walked over to the cemetery. There were some flowers on my mothers grave which Sara put there on my fathers birth day. I thought so sadly of her and Maurice and Gertrude all with us only a short time ago. When I came home I looked over some old letters I found in a box last summer. They made me feel very sad and indeed whenever I go home there is so much to remind me of the beloved dead that I have all I can do to keep cheerful.