Sunday, June 8, 1884 It has been a quiet summer Sunday with a brisk breeze from the South. I wrote to Lucy, to Gertrude and to Mrs. Sawyer. This afternoon read in Swedenborg. My father, Cousin Rachel and I have been alone. Girards baby Dwight came over in his little wagon. He is a beautiful child, always smiling and good natured. I was obliged to discipline Charlie and Girard for picking off the green strawberries and the roses. I dislike to correct them but always try to do it kindly. They have to learn as we all do by experience, what is right and what wrong.