Thursday, July 14, 1887 My 59th birth day. Is it possible that I am on the threshold of the sixties! I used to think this a venerable period and yet I approach it with a feeling of comparative youth in my heart, despite the experiences and most significant of all my comparative helplessness feeling that it would take but little to stir my pulses with the stick of early manhood. I think of the forests and the lakes with longing and would fly to them tomorrow sure that I could be contented there even with my lame side. It has been a fine breezy day, and I have been full of longings for the solitudes of the woods and lakes, and still I have spent a good portion of it going carefully over my accounts and verifying them. I want them to be clear and full and easily understood. I have felt a little less dizzy today I fancy and try to hope I am mending, trying to keep at bay troubling thoughts and all worries, waiting for direction in the way I should go.
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