Wednesday, July 23, 1884 I worked in the garden this forenoon and cleaned out the path along the north side of the house and trimmed the border. The Hollyhocks are in full bloom and also the Nasturtiums I planted and there are many varieties. This afternoon I read in Barchester Towers by Trollope, the first thing of his I ever read and am much interested. I had an idea he was rather heavy. Girard was over this evening. He said my father told him yesterday he was very lonely and that he found he was unsettled and went from place to place. I have noticed this. He seems to have no interests. It is difficult for him to read or even to listen to reading and it has seemed to me time must hang heavy on his hands. I have a dread of a lonely old age. I have thought a great deal of dear Gertrude today and contrasted these lonely days with those spent in her companionship. I was not always happy then but I would have been far more unhappy without her. How precious is the merest trifle connected with her. I keep the cloth I wipe my pen on in my desk because she used it and not long ago I washed it out. I cant bear to destroy the merest trifle she ever touched. My ideal of celestial bliss is to spend an eternity with her.
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