Friday, Jan 30, 1880 Yesterday was dear, darling Gertrudes Birthday and I did not think of it until today. I have thought of it nearly every day for two weeks and hoped I would be sure to remember it, for I meant to have given the day to her memory but strangely it did not occur to me. Dear Gertrude. She always remembered my birth days and celebrated them and marked them with some gift to me. How empty the world seems to me without her. I have been with Booth, his wife and Edwina to see Bowyer in his play. Booth thought it extremely clever. In the midst of it I kept thinking of dear Gertrude and felt so alone in all the crowd that I wished I were away. I had a letter from Sara. She had had one of her severe headaches and was up all night. In the midst of it Maurice came to her and begged her to help him. It was pitiful to read her account of his misery. Strangely enough I have been more composed and less unhappy today than in a long time. Mary recommended me to smoke a cigar before going to bed. In reading Kingsleys letters he speaks of being much more [?] and less nervous and sleepless after smoking. I have not smoked since Jan 1 and perhaps I need just that little narcotic. I shall try it each evening and smoke at no other time. Booth brought me the check today. What a generous kind fellow he is. This is the act of a real noble man, what I know he is glad to do, and what he knows I would do for him.