Friday, Feb 18, 1887 I am occupying my new room tonight. My bed is here, the stove is carried up, but there is no fire in it, it being fortunately warm enough without it. My carpet is down in the center of the floor and much of the furniture is huddled in the centre of it. I think the room is going to be delightful and I feel a sense of expectation in having secured it. I did not fully realize how uncomfortable I was in the limited space of my old studio. Curiously enough I leave the old room where I have been for thirty of the most important and eventful years of my life, a place crowded with the tenderest associations, without a regret. I am glad I can at last so easily escape from my surroundings when I have outgrown them. I presume if I had removed from the building entirely I should have felt all these influences and been saddened by them. Bradford called while I was in the direst confusion and said he was going about to some of the studios with a gentleman next Tuesday, and I told him I would be fairly settled by that time. Bradford is always very kind in that way and a few years ago took a great deal of pains to sell Earl Grosvenor a picture of mine for a thousand dollars. It has rained in violent showers all afternoon and this evening we have had prolonged thunder and lightning.
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