I went home Sunday by the Wallkill Valley R.R. and when I reached there found that John Wolfers little child was dead and the funeral to take place at 2 o'clock which I attended. Monday evening the Literary club met at our house and I read my essay on Michael Angelo treating of his character and his influence in Art, which was favorably received and for which I got more compliments than I deserved. It had snowed and rained Sunday night and was foggy all day but cleared up towards evening so that about thirty people came. The meeting was very pleasant and apparently much enjoyed by all. I was a little frightened for a time but finally got over it. Came down today at noon. Stopped and paid my fathers mine and Calverts taxes amounting to 56.80. Our nice little kitten a linial descendent of our famous old cat was found dead under the back porch this morning much to our regret. I felt melancholy and lonely at leaving Gertrude and it was a real trial for her to have me come. I see no prospect as yet for having her come down.
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