[Boston—Friday, 14 September 1866]
Friday. In the study during the morning; the wind veered slowly from west to south while a wing of cloud like a dove’s came up and overspread the sky. I dressed and went out; the wind had already gone east and it rained hard before we came home. Went to see Booth at night in “Hamlet.” He was ill with severe cold and fatigue. But it was not very good, or would not have been except for Shakspeare!! Thanks to him I was intensely interested in the play itself—in the meantime there was a fearful thunder storm and while the solemn words were falling on my ear the rain beat over the top of the brilliant theatre in fine harmony with Shakspeare in strange contrast with the brilliant house and the levity of the poorer actors.
But Booth has suffered so much—is indeed a man of such sorrow and so acquainted with grief that I look on him and love him as one of God’s appointed.
