Saturday, July 14, 1883 My 55th birth day. I shall soon be an old man for the years fly by with an appalling swiftness. My mother in her invalid chair, Sara, Downing and I sat out on the front porch this lovely evening and my mother told us how well she remembered this day 55 years ago. She was almost a girl then, had just gone to house keeping in the old Adams house, which has disappeared now. If I had children, growing old would look less forbidding to me. I cannot bear to think of a lonely old age and yet it seems to me mine will be likely to be that. We talked of poor Maurice remembering only his good qualities. He died a month ago today. I shall always regret that we were not more congenial and that I was not able to influence him for good. The weather is charming. What little breeze there was was from the north and it has been a most lovely day. My father, Downing and I took a ride across the Eddyville bridge and home by Capt Andersons. I spent the forenoon fixing the window in the stable and the grating which Toby broke. Went down town after dinner to make some purchases. Received a letter from Whittredge saying he hoped to get off the last of next week.
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