Friday, Oct 19, 1883 A grey day with a promise of a storm which so far has not come. I picked the pears down by the garden below the road and spent the forenoon trimming the pear trees and the cherry tree down by the barn. I enjoy this out of door work after my close application to sketching. A letter from Downing saying he would not return until Monday or Tuesday. He sent my list of Booths things and I wrote a long letter to Booth telling him about our camp and sending him a list of the things still in my possession. Told him I expected to have a carpenter on Monday and would have them all packed and send them whenever he was ready to receive them. My Art Journal came today. An article on American Art in the Salon by Brownell showed me how utterly out of sympathy I am with certain moods of art now prevailing. How such stuff as this will sound in the future I can well imagine. There is only one thing to do and that is not to be influenced by these foolish and noisy writers but to be faithful to ones own deep convictions. He cannot despise my work half as much as I do his wordy gabble.
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