9:50 A.M. W. eating breakfast but explained—"I have been up two hours." Had read paper and was bright in appearance and mood. Was out last evening after I had been there—gone to river.
Read him paragraph I had written for the Conservator about Tolstoi matter. Expressed pleasure, adding—"Then the further question comes up, how are they going to do it? Will they inspect every package that is put into the mails?"
Knowing I was to see Morris at Mt. Airy today, he asked (eating his rice pudding meanwhile)—"What shall I send him? I ought to send a token." Looked with comical eyes of hopelessness about the room. "It is a confusion sure enough: a mountain and not a shrub to send." I put in—"Why not send him a picture—you have never given him one." To which—"Why yes, that would do: he is welcome to any one I have." Then as his eyes fell on a package on the table, "There is one of Morse's medallions: would that do?"—and so we finally settled upon that and I went off for the boat, he saying—"Bless you both, boys!"—as I went out the door. When he knows I am going out for a genuine country stroll, he always amusedly says—"I enviges you—yes I do."