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wife whom they are visiting in Kingston. I have not seen Carrie since her marriage I think and she was married about the time we were. Pa came home this evening from his visit to Westernville and to Tom and Emmett. I have been reading over some of Gertrudes letters and some of mine to her in 1876. It was the same old story of anxieties always met with her devoted love. Reading those messages of love she seems to me to be still in the world but when I put them away I realize afresh her absence that I cannot but sigh over and cannot grow accustomed to. A letter from Booth and a short note from Downing. 

Sunday June 6. 1880. My rheumatism is much better today. A note came from Anders from Stedman last night to say he would stay and spend the night with me tomorrow on his way to N.Y. Have staid in all day and have not felt well. My digestion is impaired and I have had waves of depression passing over me by turns. Wrote to Booth and a note to Van Derlip. Read some of my letters to Gertrude in 1876. I was under great depression then and I must have caused her great anxiety. I remember what a comfort her long letters were then to me and I take fresh comfort in them now. 

Monday June 7. I walked out on the Common (or the "Downs" as Gertrude always called it) this morning. It was a beautiful morning with a most picturesque, silvery atmosphere and I wished I could reproduce it but somehow all my attempts in that direction fail. I made one or two pencil notes and came to my studio and painted a little sketch of Whistlers "Telling the bees" but did not quite do all I wanted to. At five o clock I drove up to the Junction and met Stedman at the [[?]] train and brot him home with me. He was charmed with our place and house. It never looked more attractive for it was a most beautiful day. After tea we walked in the downs and as we passed the Cemetery he wanted me to take him in and show him Gertrudes grave which I did. He thought it an ideal burial place as compared to Greenwood which he abhors as I do. We walked on the downs and talked of everything, of life and its struggles and trials and the aches that the Artistic temperament is called to suffer. He was charmed with our landscape and we talked as we always do when we get together. A note from Mr. Hutton about the Booth breakfast