Tuesday, Sept 22, 1885 Something of a lonely day to me. Sara and Mary went with the Baptist Sunday School to Pine Hill. It has been a grey and sober day indicating rain. They came home having had a very pleasant day, somewhat too warm for walking, while here I thought it cool and had a little fire in the parlor in the afternoon. I spent a part of the forenoon remounting a couple of little pictures in passepartout which had given way, the drawing by McLenan and the little oil sketch of the Wallkill Valley. After dinner I sat in the Parlor and wrote to Janette and Emily. Girard and I dined together. My father preferred to remain in bed until four o'clock when I dressed him and he came down stairs. I think he felt the loneliness of the house. When he left his room he halted a moment and pushed the door aside to look at the little portrait of my mother I painted just before she died. Sara says he always looks at it before coming down stairs. Little Dwight has been over here with his little nurse the most of the day. I think even he felt the loneliness of the day. John and Nannie came back from Boston yesterday where Nannie has been for a month. I saw John this morning when I took Mary and Sara down.
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