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anxiety to me. Indeed I never so much dreaded the winter as I do the coming one. Still I remember I had something of the same feeling last winter and yet I did more than my usual amount of work and my income was more than usual. I had a letter from Mary yesterday announcing the death of Booths mother. Lambdin wrote me my pictures in the Philadelphia Academy were admirably placed and that my "Clouds" had a conspicuous place in the large room and was very much liked by the whole committee. This at least is comforting. It is raining and the wind is blowing from the North but it is not cold. A cold wave is predicted.

Friday Oct. 30th 1885. It was wild and rainy this morning with wind N.E. I drove up to the station directly after breakfast after my trunk which the baggage man had failed to deliver, then I went down town to do some errands. I spent the forenoon putting in some glass and went up on the roof to sweep the leaves out of the gutters after unpacking my trunk and putting my things away. Then I discovered some bad spots in the roof which needed immediate attention. After dinner I drove down town and got a bunch of shingles and spent most of the remainder of the day on the roof mending it. But it seems in a very bad condition and I wish I could re shingle it and repair the chimnies[[chimneys]] which need it very much. I think Sara and I were both pretty well discouraged today. There seems so much to be done and there is so little to do it with that we both lose heart. The only permanent relief is to sell at some price. I wish we could remain here all our lives but it seems unwise to hope for it. I am sorry now I had not got an offer from Cykendall. It would be wiser to sell for half its value. How can I paint under these anxieties. My work seems very far away and I no longer see pictures in the fading landscape. It would take so little money to allow us to keep our home and yet among us all we do not seem to have the wit to make a sufficient income. Mabel Reed called here today.

[[newspaper clippings]]
MRS. JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH.
The widow of the famous tragedian, Junius Brutus Booth, died yesterday morning at her late residence, No. 339 West Twenty-third-st., in this city. She had passed her eighty-third birth-day, and for some time past had been very infirm. A few months ago she was injured by a fall, and since that time she has declined. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Holmes. She was married to the elder Booth in England and came with him to this country. She was never on the stage, but, as may be surmised, her recollections of theatrical life as associated with her husband and children, were many and interesting. She was the mother of many children, of whom only her son Edwin and her daughters Asia (wife of Mr. J. S. Clarke, of London), and Rosalie survive. Her funeral will occur on Saturday, and her remains will be buried in the same grave with those of her husband, at Baltimore.

FUNERAL OF MRS. BOOTH.
BALTIMORE, Oct. 24.-The body of Mrs. Mary Ann Booth was quietly buried this afternoon at Green Mount Cemetery in this city. The burial service of the Episcopal Church was read at the grave by the Rev. Peregrine Wroth, of the Church of the Messiah. The funeral was attended by Edwin Booth, Joseph A. Booth, Miss Marion Booth, and Miss Rosalie Booth, all of whom left for New-York to-night. There were very few people at the grave, as it was not generally known that the burial was to be made here, although all the prominent members of the Booth family have found their last resting place in the beautiful plot in Green Mount. 
[[/newspaper clippings]]

Saturday 31". The day began with worries. The cows had broken out of the barn yard, the high wind having loosened the gate. Tom has not yet come back from his wedding trip, and there was a general feeling with me that "life was not worth living". I felt a sort of despair and an utter cowardice in trying to meet the daily annoyances and worries. In this mood I turned to my diary of a year ago and found I was feeling just so then and that after all I had got on thus far with comparatively little trouble. So I braced myself and resolved to be a little braver and more patient. I went to work and mended the gate substantially. Sara and I had decided to put down the sitting room carpet and get that room ready for winter, as it was cold this morning and there was snow on the Shandaken Mountains. I carried the carpet up from the Carriage house and we got it down and the room nearly all settled by dinner time and I manfully tried to curb all impatience. Saras cook is homesick and wants to leave. She likes her and her little Ella is an interesting child and we like to have her here. We dont know how it will end. I think Mary and the cook do not take to each other.

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