Sunday, June 15, 1884 The weather is remarkably cold. I slept under three blankets last night and could have borne another one. All day in the shade it has been too cool for comfort. It has seemed so lonely here. I wrote to Joe and to Alice. Just before dinner I went down and got John McEntee to come up and dine with us. He was alone at home Nannie having gone up to Clermont. He staid here until after 4 oclock. Sara and I have talked a great deal about my mother and Gertrude and Gussie and Maurice. They have been in our thoughts all day and somehow the sense of their absence has been particularly felt today. I think it has been a homesick sort of a day with almost an autumnal feeling in the air. Girard brought me a letter from Mr. Gilman in Detroit to whom I offered my little picture for $150. He says he can only spend a hundred and I think I will tell him to pay me the balance at his convenience.
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