Sunday, Nov 25, 1883 A most lovely day. I read Blacks Shandon Bells and finished it. It is the story I began for my dear Mother. In the afternoon I took a short walk out back of O Reillys. I wrote to Lucy from whom we have not heard since our mothers death. I am afraid she is in great grief. I wrote cheerfully to her and tried to show her how kind was the close of her mothers life. That I could feel no sorrow knowing what a gain it was to her, in her release from the weary and helpless days she suffered. I told her I could not think she was far from us but still conscious of and interested in all. That with an intense love of life I had come not to fear death believing it was not the great change we had accustomed to regard it, but rather the awakening to a new and fresher life in the same direction and with the same affections and interests that made life lovely here. This notice of Bellows death I cut from the Tribune today. We were in England together and crossed on the same ship.
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