Thursday, Sept 13, 1888 A heavy thunder storm passed far to the South of us. This mornings paper spoke of its having touched N. Y. Richard A. Proctor the astronomer died yesterday in N. Y. from yellow fever. He had come from his place in Florida and was taken ill at the Westminster hotel. Yellow fever is raging in Jacksonville but he had not come from the infected district. I wrote to Church and went down town on some errands. The Democrats have nominated David B. Hill again for governor a man who has proven himself the worst type of demagogue. The infusion of a few "Mugwumps" into the Democratic party has not purified it. It cant help returning to its idols. Tom has been cleaning out the cisterns over at my house and going over them with a coat of thin cement. My poor little house looks so shabby that it makes me sad to go over there. Every thing is going to decay and I do not want to spend any money on it until I give it a thorough overhauling. I think if dear Gertrude could see it in its neglected state it would sadden her loving, loyal heart. She loved the little place as the home of our early married life. Once she went over there while John and Nannie were living there. She sat down to the piano and Nannie went out for a short time. When she came back she found her crying; the tender memories of the familiar place had overcome her.
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