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[[newspaper clipping]] DEATH OF HENRY K. BROWN.
NEWBURG, N.Y., July 10.——Henry K. Brown, the sculptor, died here at noon to-day. He was born at Leyden, Mass., in 1814. He began drawing at the age of twelve, and when he was eighteen years of age he went to Boston to study portrait painting, but turned his attention to sculpture. He pursued his studies in Italy and on his return to this country settled in Brooklyn, where he made the first bronze statue ever cast in America. Among his works are the bronze statues of Dewitt Clinton, the Washington equestrian statue in Union Square, New-York, the Lincoln statues in New-York and Brooklyn, and the equestrian statue of General Scott in Washington. In marble his best known works are "Hope," "The Pleiades," "The Four Seasons," and the statue of General Nathaniel Greene in Washington. He has lived in Newburg since 1858. His death was due to softening of the brain. His wife died six years ago and since her death his health gradually failed. [[/newspaper clipping]]

on the summer morning when she wore them. I know she would be glad to have her mother have any thing which ever was hers. Dear, darling Gertrude - How distinctly I could see you as I looked over the things which were once your care and which are sacred to me because they were yours.- My heart is heavy enough tonight over the uncertain future. I worked pretty hard in the hot sun and presume a part of my depression comes from over fatigue. Marion and Calvert will probably come up tomorrow and Lucy and her family will be here next week and I hope we shall be able to encourage each other. 

Saturday July 10" 1886. It was raining this morning and continued a part of the forenoon. At noon I drove down to Ned Tomkins' and got a lot of celery plants which I set out directly after dinner. His place looked very tidy and well cared for. I wish I had to look after only what I could keep in complete order, for I love order and to have all my surroundings well kept. It has been a comfortable day. After tea I worked in the garden until dark. Tom is attending to the roots down back of Girards and getting in the hay besides. Meanwhile the weeds are growing in the garden. 

Sunday 11" It has been a charming day and I am sorry I could not have enjoyed it more, but it has been somewhat unquiet to me from several little annoyances. My celery plants looked very wilted and I carried water and gave them wetting. The children have been cutting about the barn and I had to quiet them and I have been worrying not a little. I am appalled when I reflect how I hate responsibilities. Still it is only the responsibilities which I feel might be avoided by proper wisdom. I am not idle nor lazy but I have no heart for useless work. I like to have my work under my control so that I can take pleasure in it. Now I cant even quiet myself to read having a feeling all the time that I shall be interrupted with some petty business. My father seemed very well today, in marked contrast to a few days ago. 

Monday 12". I cut this notice of the death of H. K Brown from Sundays Tribune. The last I heard of him he was a mental wreck. I would go to his funeral if I knew when it is to take place. I worked in the garden all forenoon and put the strawberry bed in order, wondering all the time if we are to enjoy its fruits another year. This feeling is in all I do now. While I was at work Sara came down with a telegram from Andrews from Cleveland saying they would be here tomorrow morning. Mary Sara my father and I went for a ride at 3 o clock. It was a fine, rich day and the landscape was superb. We went through Kingston out on the Saugerties road to Aunt Katrinas and crossed over to the Flatbush road and home by the Roa=tina, but the ride was too long for my father as I feared it would be. He was pretty tired but had a good appetite for his supper and went to bed. I am worried and full of anxiety - the old-old story. 

Tuesday 13" Lucy and Andrews, Jamie and Sedgwick arrived today from Fort Gaston, California after an absence of four years. Sara, Jimmy and I drove down to the ferry for them and they went over and met them on the other side. They all looked remarkably well. My father was up and sat on the front porch with all of Girards family and Mary Vaux to meet them, and so the long waiting is at an end and we are happy in their society. Lucy read her long letters from Laura this evening but it is only the same old story, most difficult to open again, and I dare say she cannot even begin to think how to answer 

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