Friday, Apr 13, 1883 The day was spent in running about and doing many little things which with constant interruptions took all my time. I do not seem able to get to painting and the days fly by without accomplishing anything. Whittredge came in and saw my Indian Summer which he thinks is now one of my best pictures. I want to sell it and then the summer will look more easy to me. He did not know my picture in the Academy was sold for $1000, and said I ought not to feel discouraged. That he could not get such prices and seemed to feel a little nettled that I could get more than he could for his pictures. Told me of his discouragement and said I was a great deal better off than he was. But we all think we have the hardest time. Conant came in and told me of his discouragement. We are all full of anxieties. Bishop Putnam called and I told him I would call on his wife this evening which I did. She looked very pretty. I saw her mother and her father Mr. Faulkner who went to school at Clinton when I did. He seemed grave and reserved but apparently glad to meet me. I wonder if I seem as old as he does. We talked of our school days and I stayed an hour and a half and then went to the club a little while. Read a sharp but just criticism of the pictures of the Society of American Artists. I think our strictly American art will grow more into favor if we get an Art Union fairly going. The people are getting tired of mere decoration and are beginning to look for some thing different, if not better.