Friday, June 17, 1887 We passed a hot, close night and I feel weak and discouraged this morning. Have that awful, swimming, unsteady feeling, still I have picked the peas and keep about, but every thing is a worry and a burden. We are in the midst of the cherries. Two men came to buy them on the trees yesterday but we had agreed to let Henry and Josephine pick and sell them for half the proceeds. I cant do any thing towards it and dont care if they rot on the trees. Too much to look after is about as bad as too little. I had a letter from Whittredge yesterday telling me about lining and mounting studies. He let Oliver do his and that is what I should have done. I am afraid I have ruined my six I attempted. I went over to my studio and looked again at those I attempted to line and I wish I had let them alone. I cant do anything to them now. I can only think of my helplessness. How dull the days when we cannot be busy. Occupation is necessary for content. When I see how helpless my poor father is I realize what paralysis means, as I never did before. I seem to get more feeble instead of stronger as the day wears on. Sara has given me Bayonia this afternoon. She has gone to Kingston to a tea party of the Managers of the home at Mrs. Humphreys and this evening is going to a Musicale at Mrs. Cantines which I have declined. I could not go if I wished. It has been warm and partially cloudy all day but cooler than last night.