Wednesday, Jan 26, 1881 Did not work much today. The frame makers came and got the remaining pictures of Giffords. James Gifford is packing up the furniture and things in the studio to send to Hudson. At 2 o'clock I went up to see Dr. Joslin the pain in my lung still continuing. I was conscious of it all night. He made an examination of my lung and while not entirely decided was inclined to think the difficulty muscular. He gave me some medicine however and is coming to see me tomorrow. I have been greatly depressed today. An article in the Tribune this morning on a collection of American pictures to be sold at auction is so discouraging and so reflects a wide spread feeling that it made me very unhappy. It does seem too bad that we have no man of ability who will say one word for us. I sat in front of my fire this evening as it began to grow dark and I had a most crushing sense of loneliness. It was the time dear Gertrude and I used to talk together after the work of the day, and thinking of her sweet and satisfying and intelligent companionship the world seemed very dreary without her. It seemed to me I could bear these discouraging things so much better with her to sympathise with me. Wrote to Sara.
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