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387 Oct. 18th 1882. The autumn color is very tardy this fall. The hickory enclosing the view, which we call "Gertrudes" has only just begun to turn yellow but is changing rapidly. The elms and the maples in front of the home are hardly changed at all while the lindens are as green as mid-summer. Two trees on the street (maples) directly in front of my West window have turned a light orange. I want to see if trees take the same color each fall. [[newspaper clipping]] MY LOVE. Not as all other women are Is she that to my soul is dear; Her glorious fancies come from far, Beneath the silver evening star, And yet her heart is ever near. Great feelings hath she of her own, Which lesser souls may never know; God giveth them to her alone. And sweet they are as any tone Where with the wind may choose to blow. Yet in herself she dwelleth not, Although no home were half so fair; No simplest duty is forget. Life hath no dim and lowly spot That doth not in her sunshine share. She doeth little kindnesses, Which most leave undone, or despise; For naught that sets one heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace, Is low-esteemed in her eyes. She hath no scorn of common things, And though she seem of other birth, Round us her heart intwines and clings, And patiently she folds her wings To tread the humble paths of earth. Blessing she is : God made her so, And deeds of weak-day holiness Fall from her noiseless as the snow. Nor hath she ever chanced to know That aught were easier than to bless. She is most fair, and thereunto Her life doth rightly harmonize; Feeling or thought that was not true Ne'er made less beautiful the blue Unclouded heaven of her eyes. She is a woman; one in whom The Spring-time of her childish years Hath never lost its fresh perfume, Though knowing well that life hath room For many blights and many tears. I love her with a love as still As a broad river's peaceful might, Which, by high tower and lowly mill Goes wandering at its own will, And yet doth ever flow aright. And on its full, deep breast serene, Like quiet isles my duties lie; It flows around them and between And makes them fresh and fair and green, Sweet homes wherein to live and die. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. [[/newspaper clipping]] Sunday 22. My father drove me out to Mr. Berens the forenoon of Wednesday 18 and I came in with him last night. The weather has been rainy a part of the time and Thursday night we had a heavy white frost. The color in the hills where I took a walk yesterday is very brilliant. Sara came up from N.Y. by the Powell last night and gave us a full account of Downing's progress. He is considered out of danger but does not sit up. Maurice has a place on the Troy Times but he is away from home all day and I have no faith that it will amount to any more than all his other ventures. I wrote to Booth and to Alice. This morning I blacked my stove, put it up and built a fire in it. I have heard most discouraging accounts of Girard's conduct. Maurice has been away all day and the domestic outlook is not bright. Maurice is to go to Albany tomorrow but I have not even a faith that he will get there, much less stay. He ought to be told he need not come back here, but he will and torment all of us instead of himself alone. I have written to Gussie and told her our anxieties for she asked about Girard in her letter to Sara. Thursday 26. Came in from Mr Beriers today with him and after [[newspaper clipping]] GIFFORD.-In Hudson, N.Y., Oct. 25th, 1882, ELIZA ROBINSON GIFFORD, wife of Elihu Gifford, aged 82 years and 9 months. [Funeral services will be held at her late residence, corner of Sixth and Diamond Streets, Friday, October 27th, at 2:30 o'clock, P.M. [[/newspaper clipping]]
