Commentary

Disciples


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Wednesday, April 10, 1889

     10.45 A.M. W. reading the Record. Appearance not well, indeed, though he reports himself "about as well" as he "has been"—which is not very well, of course. Ate very little breakfast. Speaks of taking powders again—significantly showing he must feel very bad: volunteer doctoring only the resort of his extremity. "Epilogue" not yet done. "I am very dilatory. You'll pronounce me as bad as Oldach after awhile. But I shall try my best to let you have it for tomorrow." Title-page he now wholly approved. As to Myrick's suggestions there-with: "I approve of the change if he thinks it advisable to make it." Not only "no mail from O'Connor" this morning, but "no mail at all," his report. Is anxious again as to O'Connor, but tries "to wait patiently." I asked him for a Sarrazin sheet for Mr. Coates, but he said: "Won't it do this evening? The bundle has got spirited away into some corner. I have plenty of them. I wanted one for Tom the other day, but could not find it."

     The day out-of-doors is exceedingly mild. He sat there with his window closed and a blazing wood-fire, which he stirred from time to time, seeming unconscious that it was too warm, whereas the room was stifling. As to getting out-of-doors he is doubtful. "Oh! If only I could!" But just now, "impossible." W. asked me about the Thomas Symphony concert I attended last evening. "I read of the death of his wife. And so he was there? And everything went off well from beginning to end?" They had played Raff's "Lenore" Symphony among other things.

     Evening, 8:00. W. just being helped to chair by Ed as I entered and light put on. Had lain a long while on the bed,

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hoping to better himself of bad symptoms. Greeted me cordially. Said: "It seems to have been a wonderful beautiful perfect day out-of-doors!" And after Ed had left: "I received a letter from Kennedy, but felt so bad, I hardly looked to see what was in it—if anything, and what: did not finish it at all. I have had a dreadful bad day all through—my constipation and my cold have been the two beans in the pod. It seems to go worse than commons with me nowadays."

     Excused himself then as to preface. "I have nothing final on it: my head got so bad I put aside, resigned, everything." This is "great misfortune." Our time so limited— "the days, even weeks, passing" and "I still tarrying, doing nothing." Of course not to be helped. I stayed only a few minutes. Our work is blocked by the infelicity of this attack. Though breakfasting but slightly, W. ate quite improved his late dinner between 4 and 5.

     Still "no word at all from Nellie." I kissed him good-bye as I left, and said— "You must not let it slip you, Walt, how much we all think of you." And he answered as he fervently kept my hand— "I shall not, my boy—no—no—not for a minute"—and then "Goodbye! but only for a while: You'll come again—come in the morning?" Talked a little with Mrs. Davis on my way out. Ed had gone for his music lesson. While I was with Walt he opened a letter Ed brought him, which proved to be an elegant request for an autograph, immediately (except for return stamp) consigned to the woodbox.


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