From July 17th, 1989 to March 22d, 1910
July 17. Off to Roxbury this morning, much cooler after the light shower of yesterday. Reach home at 11. Ann in bed, looks thin and pale. Curtis about as he was last xmas. He has ceased all work, even milking. Ann sets up part of the time.
18.
Ed and Eliza come this morning a series of light but brisk showers in p.m. Rain in the night also.

19.
Cold, cloudy, windy. Sun comes out in mid forenoon. A day like so many I have seen here in my boyhood. The wind buffeting the trees the cloud shadows rushing over the ground from the North. Three woodchucks fall to my rifle today; fine yesterday and day before.

20.
Clear, cool, promises a good hay - day. I am sadden than I ought to be. Eat and sleep well and walk well. Read and write up by the open window in my room.

21.
Clear, calm, cool; an ideal hay day. Johnny with his machine has just started in the old meadow below the wagon house, chart. Ed and the hired man are mowing with their scythes. Curtis sets on the wall with his pipe. I pause on my return from a walk over the hill, and sit by him and we talk a little of old times. Eliza, Ed's wife goes along with her baby in its carriage. I sit up here by the open window and look out upon the familiar scene, but with ups whose lids are beginning to feel the weight of years. Ann sits below in her room slowly dying. How pathetic it seems; the haying campaign is in full blast and she is a spectator to it for the last time. She is cheerful and uncomplaining. The humbled of us, knows how to die when the inevitable time comes. Are

we not all dicing hard? Each day is one less, we know the last day and hour approaches and yet we are cheerful and go about our business. The criminal in his cell, who is to be executed in the morning, sleeps the sleep of his youth. The race of men has faced and met death so long that we have all in a measure got used to it and have an inherited calmness or indifference in regard to it.

22.
Cloudy with sprinkles of rain all day. Great news from West Park yesterday at 6.15 a.m. a grandson was born to me, three with ahead of time, Julian says. May his tribe increase. Walk down to Depot and back this morning.

23.
An old pachwind rain from the south, slow and continuous. Rained nearly all night; What I have been wanting to see but now I find it rather cheerless It is cold as I sit here and write this. The rain much needed. 10 a.m. How easily it seems to rain, how inevitably, a few days ago rain seemed impossible, now it is the easiest thing in the world. How broadcast, how deliberate, how regardless of our wants or wishes. The valley is all white with it and the distant mountain hidden, as I have so often seen it in my youth.

24.
Rain in morning, clearing in p.m. The ground has had a good soaking.

25.
A driving mist with cold. N.W. winds, cold as California. Clearing in p.m.

26.
Clear, cool, lovely, an ideal summer day, not a cloud in the sky. I hear Johnny's mowing machine in the meadow below the wagon house, as I write. Clifton Johnson here, for photographs. Bobolinks all gone. Hermit thrush still in song 3 days ago.

27.
Came over to Edens last night. Eden at work in his garden. Looks pale, but seems well, good appetite, good sleep. Mag well and active as usual. "I have to be well" she said. There is something in that the will to be well helps. Spend a quiet day; pretty warm.

28.
Go out to James this morning. Jane comes from Evas, looks well, but very fat and full of blood. Hattie and Chester well and looking well, Hattie a good housekeeper and more intelligent than her sisters or than some of them. I poke around and visit all day, a hot day. Come to Curtis's at

night.

29.
Hot day. Poke around all day. Ann about the same. She has more fortitude or a better philosophy than I have, seems to look her fate coolly in the face - has given away her clothes and things and made her will. Curtis about as usual, but seems more subdued and quiet than last year; is losing his grip I think.


-Your mountains (the Californian) Contrasted with these (the catskills) are like cattle lying down and ruminating under the trees. Tranquil restful with smooth long flowing lines are these mts. They have an introverted, dreaming look. The slumber of ages is upon them. But those new (comparatively) Cala mountains - lean, angular hungry - look outward alertly almost threatening. They are up henals, these are remnant of a great plateau.
30.
A warm night, hot this morning with many low flying fog clouds.

31.
Warm. Leave home today. Reach M. at 4. C.B. looking well. Aug 1. With C.B. Warm day, a walk in fields at night. 2d. Home today.


4.
Start for [R] Stony Creek today. Reach there at 7 p.m.

5.
Slow rain from N.E. light at West Park heavy, 2 1/2 inches greatly needed.

6.
Bright fine day. Walk to Livingstone Lake.

7.
Hot. Climb a mountain all granite.

8.
Hot day, over 90 degrees, a picnic under the trees.

9.
Hot, home today.

10.
Fine day, a little cooler.

11.
Much cooler, from N. Julian writing a story. The young J.B. a fine placed baby.

12.
Fine day. Company at S.S. from Kingston.

13.
Writing a little at S.S.

14.
Binder comes today.

15.
Wader a great nervous strain the past 3 days.

16.
Rain, rain, began in the night, all day, heavy at times.

17.
Rain all night, and yet this morning. N.E. probably 4 or 5 inches of water.

18.
Rain and mist continues came over to the study and to Julians to stay on Monday, nervous strain continuing heart acting badly.


9. Soon good news, nervous strain lets up.
21. To N.Y. meet C. at station. To Staten Island till Sunday p.m. A very pleasant visit. C. much better.
23.
In N.Y. and home in p.m. Cool, clear weather.

24.
Start for Olive today with Mrs. B. visit the graves of her father and mother and arrange for removal of bodies to Tongore. Weeds and black berries growing on their graves, a woodchuck hole in side of father North's grave. Tongore much changed since my time there in 54 and 5. The big water works, spoiling all this part of the country. To Roxbury in


p.m. Hot day.
25.
At home. Ann about the same, Curtis better. Meet John Smith up on the hill, my school fellow of long ago, a little younger than I am. See the old look in his face. Talks a stream on money getting, his whole life has ran in that channel. Bargains in land and cattle and grain, opportunities missed and opportunities seized, and his experiences with men South and West and North e.t.c. Talks well and easily; is in the Iowa legislature.

26.
To Tom Smiths to dinner, a pleasant day. John R. and I have much talk, or he does. I listen; is not curious about my life or my work, but like to tell his.

27.
John R. comes to dinner. I walk back with him to top of hill in p.m. We may never meet again.

28.
Johnny takes us over the mountain to Amy's. Jane is there, a cold bright day. Amy very active, under her great sorrow of the loss of her husband. Jane well and plaintive as usual. an immense flock of crows in head of the valley, more than a thousand I should say, the reunion of the clan. When Will saw, he must die he told Ammy he should watch for her on the other side. How heart breaking! Poor boy.

29.
Shower in forenoon. Clearing in p.m. Return to West Park.

30.
Warmer.

31.
Windy. Go to P. in p.m. Sept 1st. Cooler, send off G.C. article to century. 2d. Unseasonably cool, threatens frost. Grapes repening very slowly. Well these days, but not very happy. I guess I am getting near the dregs of my cup of life. I dream and dream of Honolulu and Cala. Oh, what an experience that was! 3d. Off to Napanoch in p.m.


4.
At Mr. Seamans, an auto ride up to.

5.
Cool windy day, a picnic.

in a gorge on Mr. S. trout preserve. Then over into wall of Rowland in the auto. Take our supper at the great "blue pool," where I had not been in over 30 years. A pool of great beauty, meet Mr. Dimmock and wife.

6.
Start at 3 p.m. in auto, for Del. water gap, a brisk enjoyable ride, but very cool. Reach Strandsburg at 7. Pass night there, cold.

7.
Off at 6 1/2 for the water gap, which we pass through at 7. Then on across N.J. Reach Orange at 12, lunch there. Then on to N.Y. I take 4 p.m. train for home.

8.
Warmer, I take a hand in the grape racket, nail up crates

in p.m.

9.
Pick peaches and nail up crates. Get pretty tired; warm. 260 crates sent off yesterday and today.

10.
Rain nearly all day from South, much needed.

11.
Fine rain yesterday. Clear today and warm, North wind. This is the 101st birthday of my mother born at or near Westerton or Reusselaerville, Albany Co. She told me in her old age that the house where she was born had long since disappeared. I think it was a log house. Grandfather was a poor man. They moved from there to Red Hill Del. Co when mother was a little girl

12.
Cool fair day. Write a little and walk to S.S. in p.m. Rover kills a baby rabbit.

13.
Cool fair day, 52 years ago today. I was married and I am still in the bridegroom mood.


-Any of the large doings or bounties of nature - the rain the sunshine, the seasons - illustrate the ways of what we call providence, a general providence and never a special. How dependent are all men, all life upon these things, yet how wholesale and undiscriminating they are. Take the rain; how it not only falls upon the just and the unjust but it falls upon the sea us upon the land, upon the rocks and upon the soil, in excess at times as well as scone and at times. So with all the ways of providence. There is only a natural providence, there is no religious or theological providence. Strange it is that men could ever have persuaded themselves there was. Their egotism did it, yet this natural providence brought forth man out of the lower animal orders, as if its efforts had been specially deserted to him, his providence; hot it did it in a long wasteful wholesale way, not by seeming to favor him, but by favoring all things alike. It never directed one rain drop, one sunbeam, one current of any kind especially to him, made no exceptions in his favor, shielded him from no cold, or disease or many hostile influences, and yet here he is, the crown and summit of the animal kingdom, the child of a general providence and not of a particular. The rains favored him, the warmth favored him the fruits of the earth favored him not because they were made especially for him, but because, in a stricter sense, he was made for them; his constitution was adapted to them; he came out of them, as it were. When I plant my crop and water and cultivate it, I am special providence. Burbank is the special providence to all his vegetable creations; but in each case, back of all lies the general providence of nature, without which our special acts would be of no avail. I am providence in the life of man only in the sense that something started him on the upward road and made it possible for him to climb it. And the same way be aid of all forms of life. It is good providences to us that fire burns and that water drows, though it burn and drown us, that we starve without food and perish without drink. Else, food and drink would not nourish us. From my point of view then the whole course of nature is providential. The total up shores progress, evolution, good will the race of man become extinct, as have so many forms in the past? No, not in that sense. Man will not drop out in the race of life as did the mastodon the Brontosaurus e.t.c. He will run the race to the end, that is till all life on the globe ceases. No animal with such a brain has ever before appeared. The accidents and agents that cut off the extinct forms, will not affect him, only a general failure of reproduction, could cut him off.
-Modern life is becoming more and more a question of machinery. The machine is more and more and the man is less and less, yet man makes the machine and directs it. He delegates his powers to it, yet it robs him of something, what is it? It robs him of a personal element. Modern armies are machines and personal prowess comets in them less and less. With education, training, science refinement. The large picturesque personalities gradually disappear. They disappear from literature from the pulpit, from the bar, from the farm, from all the walke of life, and dapper, skillful, clever men appear.
14. Cool fair day; help in the grapes yesterday and today. Nail up crates. Enjoy it 6700 lbs today.
-Break the record for this farm, 6050 lbs today.
15.
Work in grape again over 5000 lbs today, mostly Delaware each day, cloudy.

16.
Cloudy, cool, calm, not quite well, do not take hand in grape racket today. Few birds this year, grapes not pecked at all, no chippies, no oriole, or robins to speak of. Grape were never so free from blemish. Where are the birds?


18.
Go to N.Y. today. Pose for Mr. Larned for etching. To Dr. J's in evening. C.B. there.

19.
To the Bronx with C.B. and Paul to visit the zoo, a pleasant day.

20.
To Peconic today.


21, 22, 23, 24. At Rowlands, have a good time. Weather warm, but cloudy and threatening rain [most] the last three days, never enjoyed the shell fish and the bathing more. One bad night (the 24) from eating too many clams and scallops.
25.
To Floral Park in p.m. nearly well again.

26.
Pleasant day with the Child's.

27.
A long auto ride, 66 miles in light - cold rain. To N.Y. at night.

28.
Home today, a fine day. Ann Eliza, my brother's wife dies today from cancer, a long and very painful illness .fearful toward the end, so that chloroform had to be administered, morphine having no more effect. Peace to her ashes. I shall miss her much, nearly 77 year of life. How much she


toiled there amid those hills. And how unflinching she faced death and such a death. Why could not nature or God or something alleviated her terrible sufferings, so great at times toward the last that my sister Jane had to retreat into the pantry and shut the door so as not to hear her out cries. Oh, merciless nature! An intangible far, born and nursed in ones own body eating the poor body up inch by inch. How horrible. How impossible to reconcile such facts with the old ides of a human, yet omnipotent god. Sept 30. A fine day, Ann's funeral day. Oct 1st. Pleasant day, finish the Hawaiian Rhymes
Oct 2d. C.B. and Mrs. P. from St. Louis come on morning train, a pleasant day at S.S. Walk to the old mill in p.m.
3.
Delightful day at S.S. My guests go on 5 p.m. train.

4.
Cloudy and cool, I am very well these days, and mind pretty clear and active.


8. Go to N.Y. and to Franks at Orange with Rowlands. Lovely days.
10.
Charming days, spend night in N.Y.

11.
Home today. Fine weather continues.


13.
Cool, dry. To M. C.B. looking well. Ripe thorn apples and enchanting autumn woods.

14.
To Napanoch, meet Julian there. Spend day and night at Seamans. Mr. S. and Mrs. S. away

15.
We stop at M. and see C.B. Fine day.

16.
Cool Oct so far. Writing some these days. 23d. Putman Hall girls today, a cool week with but little rain. Writing on Geology.


24. To N.Y. berel men Mr. Pine and Mr. Bowditch. 25, 26, 27, 28, 29. Bright cool days at home writing. Health good. No irregular heart action for several weeks.
30.
Clear cold; the coldest night of the season, down to 30, freeze the ground.

31.
Fine Indian summery day. Write in my study on Geology. Warmer. Nov 1st. Calm, hazy, fine day. Leaves half off. Sleep well, eat well, feel well these days. A storm coming.


2, 3, 4, 5. At home at work, cool dry days.
6.
Go to Briancliff Lodge on invitation of Mrs. West. Cool dry day, an auto ride to Crodon dam.

7.
An auto ride to Portchester. Cool dry. Enjoy myself. The Briancliff about the best inn I ever stopped at.

8.
Cloudy, cool. Home today.

9.
Chant and Emma here, cool dry, clear today.

10.
A cold night - coldest of the season. Stripped the mulberries of their leaves last night. Today they lie in heavy green masses at their feet.

11.
Lovely day, warmer, [an] Indian summer weather.

12.
An ideal Indian summer

day. Chant and E. off for home today. Sit and take a nap in Summer house. Yesterday Julian killed 10 ducks - blue bills on river. Writing some each day, how on Geology then do animal instinct.

13.
Pleasant day, 33 Vassar girls at S.S.

14.
Cloudy. Poltons Bigelow and Commodore Higginson today. Bigelow and the Commodore met on the floor in the corner of my study window and eat their lunch of milk toast which they prepared over my fire and make believe they are camping out.

15.
Writing on animal instincts day fair and cool.

16.
Day fair and cool.

17.
Light rain from S.W.

Miss Freligh and Isabel Overbaugh come today,

18.
At S.S. with the Saugerties company. Bright and windy and cold.

19.
Froze apples last night. Overferet spit of snow this morning. Am much shocked this morning at news of Gilders death, which occurred yesterday of heart disease. An old and true friend of mine, not a great past, but a real one - very delicate and spontaneous wrote too easily, lacked force and intensity. Wanted too many things in life I think. Would have written greater poems had he wanted fewer and wanted them more, of course I am trying him by my own standards, a few of his poems will probably live in anthologies

Peace to his ashes!

20.
Fine mild day. Go to N.Y. to attend Gilders funeral. Julian rows me over to Hyde Part at 9. Reach the church just before the close of the services, a large assemblage, meet many old friends and acquaintances mostly literary men. Saw Gilders coffin bone out as the shoulders of four men, a sad day for me. Go to Rowlands for over Sunday. Mr. Howells and James have Allen call upon [new] Sunday p.m. Howells looks well but his head begins to settle down between his shoulders like an old man. Allen large straight and dignified, with almost a military air. Rowland brought


out Garlands portrait which he had recently painted, "years" since Howells, that is Garland.
-Garland overtaken by civilization." Ruth, be envy Stewart also called, a very bright woman, such people cultivate their wit all the time; they ought to be bright; The chief end of man to them is to be witty. (We who have no wit arrange ourselves by such remarks) Sunday was warm as Sept.
21. Spent the evening with her Johnson (R.W.) Glad to see them again. 22d. Came home today, a mild overcast day. 23d. A little rain and wind.
24.
Very windy. Go out to Hobart. Begins to hail and

snow. Reach Edens at 6.

25.
Quite a winter day, 2 1/2 inches of snow and hail and cold, another thanksgiving dinner. Jane, Olly, Dessy, "Ort," Willie, Bruce, Clearly Eden, Mag and I, all are well. Curtis does not come. Cold and misty all day.

26.
Back home today. clearing and warmer, 3 or 4 inches of snow at West Park, mud and slush when I arrive.

27.
Clear, mild. To M.

28.
At M. Mild, fair day. C.B. not well.

29.
Home today. Pretty cold.

30.
Fair, cold 22 degrees. Dec 1. Still dry and cold. Dec 2. Still dry and cold. Dec 3. Still dry and milder. Dec 4. Still dry and milder. Saw a large flock of


fish crows, drifting in a vague aimless way to the North, with much croaking, never saw them so late in season and in such numbers before. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Rather cold dry Dec weather. Working on my M.S. The Great Stone book and others, a persistent dizziness [since] for past 3 weeks, not bad otherwise I feel well and strong.
11.
Go to K. to look at house for C.B. a cold dry day.

12.
Signs of storm at night, taken with low fever and pain in limbs, my old trouble.

13.
Poor sleep last night, fever and pain all night, and all day today. Stay at the house. Snowed all day, raining at night.

14.
Better this morning; fever and pain gone, a morbid


condition of the blood. I think from poor digestion and assimilation of food, must eat less. Heavy rain in the night; snow very thin this morning. Bright clear, mild, no ice in river yet.
My dizziness began after a streak of indigestion that followed my visit to Briancliff Lodge, where I was guilty of over eating. I gained one pound there in two days. All my troubles of late year, I believe have come from a morbid condition of the blood brought about by poor digestion. 15, 16, 17. Bright dry days, no fever.
18.
Go to Seamans today. Fever returns at night.

19.
Bad night, uncomfortable day.

20.
Bad night again, only 2 or 3 hours sleep.


20.
Visit Dr. Neal at E. he prescribes, says liver is at fault, too much bile. Cold dry weather. Sit by the open fire and read most of the time.

21.
Some letter, less fever.

22.
Fever gone; feel better. Go to M. in p.m. C.B. busy but well. Dr. Woodman examines me, finds nothing serious wrong. 23d. Home this morning. Cold, dry.


24.
No fever yet; Head still swims at times. Cut wood and walk some.

25.
Bright in morning; begins snowing about noon. We have our xmas dinner at Julians, we supply the turkey, a pleasant time.

26.
Fierce storm of wind and snow

all night. Raging yet at 10 a.m. probably a foot or more of snow much drifted, full fledged winter. Window panes all plastered up with snow. Like old times at home when the storm kept us from school. Blue birds this morning calling piteously.

27.
Snow about a foot much piled up. Cold. Fever returned Sunday night. Went to P. this morning to see Dr. Van Tiling, says my lever is enlarged, gave me colonel and something else.

28.
Cold, some fever yet.

29.
Fever about gone. Cold.

30.
Down below zero this morning; night and still severe cold worst all over the country, some better.

31.
Bright, cold, near zero. Slowly gaining I think but no appetite.


Jany 1st, 1910
Bright cold day, down to 14 above this morning. Still somewhat indisposed, but no fever yet today. Call at the Gordon's and at Leavings. 2d Cold bright day.
3. Cold bright day.
5.
Off for M. Sanitarium at 12. Reach there at 4. Rain and sleet in evening. C.B. calls, looks fine.

6.
Take the baths and treatment by electricity. No fever, dizziness slight.

7.
Heavy rain all night turning to ice. C.B. calls.

8.
Fair day, very icy, walk up to Caufields.

9.
Bright fine day. C.B. comes in morning. Go to C's to dinner.

10.
Bright sharp day, nearly well.

11.
Bright day, milder.

12.
To Caufields today. Cold.

13.
At C's. Company at night.


C.B. among them.
14. Cold snow storm. Return to Poughkeepsie and join Mrs. B. at Boyer's. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21. At Boyer's, not well yet but nearly so.
22.
To Newburgh. C.B. and Katharine.

23.
In N. Fine day. Eds little girl dies today from dipthery. 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31. At Boyers writing on Geology. Health pretty good, appetite too good. Weather mild. Go up to Julians twice a week. Sleep two nights in study. Feb 1, 2, 3, 4. At Boyers writing and reading.


5.
To N.Y. Go to steamer with C.B. to see Lillian off for the Orient.

6.
Cold, cold. Stay with R.W.J.

7.
Near zero. Return home today. 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. At Boyers writing on Geology. Cold, dep snows


13.
Clear cold day. Health good.

14.
Bright, mild day. Julian comes down.

15.
Milder overcast; rain coming. C.B. come to W.P. to look at the Shackelford house. I join her at Hilard. Likes the house much, may purchase.

16.
Cloudy, thawy, storm coming.

17.
Sleet and rain and snow. Colder in p.m.

18.
Two or three inches of hard snow and hail, hard as a pavement. Walked over it this morning in going to Dr. Van Tiling's office. Clear, cold. Tree tops white with rime.


-Joy in the universe and keen curiosity about it all - that has been my religion. As I grow old my joy and my interest in it increase. Less and less does the world of men interest me; more and more do my thoughts seen to things
universal and everlasting.
-What a pathless wilderness the question of mans origin leads one into! All is veiled in mystery. The imagination even is baffled, one only knows that the wilderness is not limitless that there is another side to it, but how to get there? There are many dews but they lead but a little way. Did man emerge from the lower or orders in on particular locality only? If so was he the result of a sudden mutation - a long leap? Did only one individual emerge and was it a male and did his progeny start the race? If so then the whole future of mankind hung on life of that one male through the perilous time of infancy and childhood. We encounter the same difficulty in trying to account for the origin of any species. We trace it back in imagination to one or two lives upon the preservation of which all depended. Then one ask was the line broken many times, and a new start made over and over? It was of course the growing brain power of the animal ancestor of man that first began to differentiate him from the rest of the tribe. Some one animal was born with more intelligence than the rest; his offspring inherited his intelligence and thus they got a start and held it till a group of animals began to dominate the others, as we see happen in families today. On the other hand we see that it is quite impossible to increase the intelligence of any species of animal by artificial breeding beyond a certain point. We can change their forms, their colors, their size, their speed, their habits in a hundred ways, but we cannot develop anything like mind or reason in them. We can train them but cannot educate them. In human time, but little can be done, but behold what wonders have been brought in geologic time. Could man ever evoke a bird from a reptile? or a frog from a fish? Could he even make a white man out of a black man? We associate the light and the dark skinned races with the climates in which each lives, but how slow these climatic influences must work.
In human experience, a negro does not become white in the Northern climate or a white man become black in a Southern, yet a Northern sheep quickly loses its wool in the tropics. This is probably because the wool of a sheep bears so more direct relation to its well being than does the color of the skin among men. The European in the course of a generations becomes darker in the south, but the negro skin does not seem to yield so readily to the influence of our snow climate.
19.
Clear, cold, near zero. Health good except a mild influenza. Go to N.Y. this p.m. to attend Gilder memorial meeting.

20.
In N.Y. C.B. at Dr. J's. We attend the memorial services at Mendelson Hall

21.
In N.Y. Go to Mrs. E's. Mild.

22.
Rain all day. Mr. Turner pays me $125 on the old loan.

23.
Cold, windy. Go to hear Harry Lauder in p.m.

24.
Cold, clear. Down town in morning. Go back to Poughkeepsie in p.m. Mrs. B's cold no better. Her cough very painful.

25.
Poor sleep, cold - below zero. Go up to W.P. snow very deep there. Julian and his family well.

26.
Clear, cold, zero. Mrs. B. no better. My own cold nearly gone.

27.
Warmer, thawing, rain in p.m. mercury 52. Meet Charley Benton at Peters, not very well.

28.
A general thaw, floods expected. Go to W.P. today, water and slush. Blue birds, Dense fog. Mch 1st. Foggy and rainy. General floods. Glad to be here, much better than Poughkeepsie.


I hear the hammer of Ed and Hud making crates - good music to my ears. Julian finishing his duck house. Snow going rapidly. Crows have a strong continent caw.
2.
Still fog and murk. Snow half gone. Walked to S.S. yesterday p.m. Rerun with me. Snow over a foot deep. Saw 3 partridges near S.S. not fatigued by the walk. - I have often thought that ones complaints take the form in complexion of his temper or disposition - that violent choleric people have more severe attacks of one kind and another. Persons whose teeth come hard, have hard tough natures. Fevers and inflamations are mild with one, but more severe with Mrs. B. Does an unkind person suffer more in illness than a kind?

2d. C.B. and Caufield today a crushing blow; the fathers refuse to sell St. Faith's property after evading Miss Shackelford to believe they would.

3.
Go to P. Mrs. B. a little better. Foggy and warmer. Snow melting radialy.

4.
Clear, an ideal sap day. Mercury 42, never saw sap run faster. It leaps out of the trees, like the blood out of a cut artery. Calm, delicious. Tap all the trees today.

5.
Clear, calm, warm, sap runs on a canter. Froze quite hard. Blue-birds full of enthusiasm this morning. Start boiling sap all the buckets full.


C.B. comes at night.
6.
A fine day, over 50. C.B. and I go to look over the hellon

property. In p.m. go to Highland a walk through snow and slush; warm in the woods.

7.
Cooler, overcast. Go to W.P.

8.
At W.P. Froze last night; a good sap day. Return to P. in p.m. See Lown about the Martin affair.

9.
To Stanfordville with Mr. Boyce. Warm; a fine sap day.

10.
To W.P. Boil sap and sugar off in p.m. Partly overcast.

11.
Froze hard last night. Clear and cold this morning. Go to Kingston to see Clear water. Boil sap in p.m. Clear, calm.

12.
Fine sap day. Sugar off in forenoon. Go to P. in p.m. and to Vassar.

13.
Ideal sap day. Clear warm after a freeze. In P. Sit a long time on College Hill. Julian hustles with the sap

all day.

14.
Colder, windy, a March day. Sap runs fast; at home today boiling sap. River broke up last week about the middle.

15.
Colder, clear, but little sap. Go to P. and to Highland to look at house for C.B.

16.
Clear, warmer in p.m. Sap runs again; give it to Hud at W.P. today.

17.
Colder, snow flurries in forenoon. Clearing in p.m. Boil sap for Hud.

18.
Froze very hard last night. Clear and sharp this morning. Shall boil sap for Ed this p.m. Ed and Hud clearing up vineyard. Sleep well and eat well these days, but tired, Liver, I guess.

19.
Warmer S.W. winds. Sap runs, no ice in river. Snow in woods. Trying to write a little, still picking away at the sedimentary rocks.

20.
Warmer; but little frost last night. In P. with Mrs. B. Walk to College Hall in p.m. Light showers with thunder about 4 p.m.

21.
Clear as a bell, calm, a little cooler, but no freeze last night. Back home today boiling sap in p.m. Saw Phoebe bird today. River like glass. Hud and Ed tying up grapes. Poor sap day; no frost in ground or in the air.

22.
Warmer, sap stops running. Partly cloudy. Enjoy the day at W.P. Several heels of the last snow larks still visible. Ice all gone from river.


-It seems as if my whole life here has been all foreground, no background as my life on the pawn had. Julian and his family, how I love them all!
My life would be worse than death without them; they fill the foreground, but oh, for the back ground of father and mother and brothers and sisters, and all the old life on the farm. Is it always so? Can our lives have but one background, that of youth? My 36 years of life here seem so unimportant. I have simply been away from home on a camping or fishing expedition and must hurry back where my real life is. How do the doings of Julian and me compare with the doings on the old farm in my youth? They are nothing, oh, the spell of the past! I sit here and look across the river to the palace of the multimillionaire with indifference or contempt. It means nothing to me. But when in the spring in my boyhood I used to look across the home valley and see at night, the sugar camp fire of Semer older in the woods on the side of the big mountain, how much that meant to me! How I love to recall it all now. Semer has been in this grave scores of years, but his camp fire still shines in my memory. Nothing warns big anymore, I am getting to the small end of things.
of Miss Haight Stony Creek Warren Co N.Y.