Tuesday, Oct 14, 1884 My father seems decidedly stronger today. I had a letter from Mary this morning very anxious about him. I wrote her that he seemed much improved. Have been busy with the apples and my mind is distracted with small worries, doing the work of a hired man when I ought to be full of my art work. It has been a cool day with North wind. To crown my troubles Girard is in trouble again. He does not live within his means and now he tells me he is obliged to raise five hundred dollars. I am dumb and helpless. When we are in the greatest trouble we can surely rely on him to come in with a fresh batch. Dear Gertrude, in my mind all day. She died six years ago tonight, and fled beyond all the troubles of this troublesome life. What can I say or think of her that I have not said and thought a thousand times. Needing her love and tenderness now more than ever, yet with the sad solace that she cannot feel the anxieties which torture me. My love for her that can never grow cold and the inexpressible regrets for her are all that are left me. Will this day ever come to me with a serene and patient acceptance of the sorrow that stands forever in her vacant place. My poor father this evening gave me what money he had and told me to take care of it as it was of no use to him. It touched me to the heart but I tried not to let him see it.
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