HYDE PARK, Friday—This has been a perfectly beautiful day. Sara and Kate were up bright and early this morning and while I was at breakfast, Kate came rolling into the room. Literally one could think of no other way in which to describe her walk. The rompers add to the rotund effect, she is still very uncertain and weaves her way across the floor. Sara's pony was out in the paddock getting over the long journey taken yesterday, and tomorrow I think she will be out exercising him.

The morning was filled for the President by one continuous stream of visitors. I went for a ride but started late because of the numerous interruptions, and arrangements that had to be made, so that as I was going out to get on my horse, some one asked me if I had just come in!

We have had a most delightful picnic lunch at the cottage eating hotdogs, salad and fruit tarts. It was cool enough so that sitting in the sun was pleasant. The President sat at a table in the middle of an open space before a big stone fireplace and everybody gathered—the newspaper men, the photographers, the secret service, the office force from Poughkeepsie, chairs and benches filled up all around his table. Mr. Breckenridge Long, Mr. Owen Johnson, Miss Vandy Cape, and many other friends, and a few relatives added to our numbers and everyone seemed to have a good time.

There were about six small children, four of them old enough to go swimming and it was all we could do to keep them out of the pool long enough to allow their luncheon to digest. I was brought up on the theory that you must not go into cold water until at least an hour after eating. I have done it a number of times myself without any ill effect and I often wonder if it is one of those old-fashioned theories which we could safely neglect. It certainly would be more convenient if we could for no one ever wants to wait. It is particularly difficult for any one under ten!

Now the cottage which has been the scene of so much going and coming in the last few hours, seems to have settled back into afternoon calm and a few minutes ago, Franklin, Junior's voice came over the telephone announcing that he and Ethel had arrived at James's house in New York. Tomorrow morning they will fly southward for a wedding, and then get ready to settle down in Charlottesville, Virginia. The enthusiasm of youth is one of the most contagious things I know, just hearing him say he had had such a marvelous time made me feel that life was glamorous!

These are the days that make one feel one should not spend a minute indoors. The sunlight must not be wasted, for it will soon lose its warmth. Nothing is more glamorous than our September and October days. I felt great sympathy with one girl who said to me this afternoon: "I never want to go back to the city, I feel relaxed and peaceful here and the mere thought of the noise and constant activity of the numbers of of people around one in any big city wears me out."