Sunday, Nov 21, 1886 A typical Roman winter day such as I used to spend on the Roman Campagna with the Alban hills white with snow and the broad Campagna lying brown and still under the clear sunshine with "far Soracle" gleaming on the horizon. Boldly discarding my truss which I have worn constantly since May 1879 I started off on a walk out back of O Reillys and around by the Post farm and home through the cemetery stopping at dear Gertrudes grave. They are fencing in the new part of the cemetery bought from the Post farm. Park insisted upon accompanying me but lagged behind and had to find his own way back. Tonight I see not the least hint of my hernia and have felt not the slightest inconvenience. I believe it either has been cured or if not have felt faith it will be. I wrote to Weir. Am reading the second volume of Grant's Memoirs and find it most fascinating. His campaign of Chattanooga was a marvel of generalship as well as of enterprise and fertility of resource. He was indeed a very great man.
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