Friday, Dec 21, 1888 This is I believe the shortest day of the year. I always think of Taylors "O darkest day of all the year." I love the short, dark days. They never sadden me. They are soothing and quieting. I was surprised to find that one of the French landscape painters expressed the same idea to his friends to their great wonder. I think it was Rousseau but am not sure. I was at Wilmurts this morning. Tommy came in looking very sad. I had an idea Wilmurt was a widower but this was Tommys mother. He sent me the frame for Husteds picture and it has gone this evening. Major Wilkinson came in about noon and spent a half hour with me. I began his little picture this afternoon, but have worked all day on Mr. Welles' picture. I wrote to Husted this evening and sent him the bill for the frame, tablet and boxing $12. Miss Thomas spent the evening at Marys and I went home with her. A cold wave has arrived since I went over to dinner and it has snowed a little. The wind blew violently and it was bitterly cold. I was glad to get to my warm room.