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dear old Lang from Florence and one from Gussie. I wrote to Lang when Kensett died and sent him some flowers from his coffin. Mary tells me that all of our friends have called on her to talk of Gertrude. Sadly no one had more loyal and devoted friends than she.
 
Thursday Nov. 28" 1878. Thanksgiving Day. It has been a characteristic November day, grey and somewhat windy with snow squalls along the mountains and toward evening with grand and solemn effects of dark skies and fitful lights opposite the sun. Maurice and I raised the flags and they have been flying all day. Maurice went down to the post office and brought me one of Alices sweet and affectionate letters which in a measure in their love and sisterly feeling take the place of Gertrudes love. They are filled with memories of her she lived so fondly. She enclosed this beautiful poem which she said seemed to have been written for me. We had our Thanksgiving dinner at three o'clock and no one was here beside our own family except Mary and Marian and Miss McAdam. There was no sadness although we have talked much of Gertrude, but a cheerful and happy time, just as she would have had it and as it would have been if she had been here, as she was in spirit. I worked a little while in the forenoon fixing the box in which are our letters and which used to belong to my mother and is one of my earliest memories. This evening I wrote to Mr. Sawyer and Mary and I sat late in the parlor and talked of Gertrude and wept over our tender memories of her.

Friday 29. This morning directly after breakfast I walked down to George Stevens and selected some Christmas presents. It was a beautiful morning and has been a beautiful day. When I got back Robinson was here to paint the flag staff which he did and afterwards he and Tom took the shears and the rigging home. I made a cleat and painted it and this afternoon repaired our writing desk which had got very much out of order. I had a sweet little letter from Sedgwick dictated to him by his mother. Have spent a part of the evening looking over and arranging my letters and the last letters to Gertrude. Miss Lane 

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