Sunday, May 1, 1887 The day bright and pleasant though a fire felt comfortable in the morning. I walked about the place which seems ten times more lonely in summer and pleasant weather than it does in winter and Sara gave expression to the same sentiment. My father seems pretty well. Sara is going on with the house cleaning and trying to keep cheerful in her loneliness by working all the time. I am unhappy and despondent and cannot hide my anxieties. I see so many things to be done that it appals [sic] me and a sense of helplessness sweeps over me. Girard told me that Mr. Chalker, the Doctors father died last night. His father is still living at the age of 97. The day has turned out warm although we still have fire in the hall stove.