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Tuesday, July 9, 1889

     7.50 P.M. W. at home, in the parlor, on the sofa. Had not been out today. The day clouded. "I have myself been under a cloud today—particularly this afternoon: even now it appears to hang over me." He fanned himself. Said he felt "no disposition to go out, even if the day had been clear." I had a postal from Kennedy, speaking of a Sept. trip West, to St. Paul, with "stop-off" to see Bucke, if so to be managed. W. said, "Yes—why not? It is easily done. And Sloane would not regret or forget it." Said then: "You say he thanks you for papers I sent him? I don't remember recent papers at all. I sent a paper today to Bucke—one, also, to Mrs. O'Connor. Bucke still holds well up—writes often. In one of his recent letters he describes a jaunt he had with some others there—a fifteen-mile trip somewhere or other, and a good feed thrown into the bargain!"

     I stayed but briefly. He seemed to wearied to do much talking. Ed described him as being "very weak all day" and asked me— "Don't you think he's getting thinner?" W. still avoids discussion of leaving Camden. I told him Harned thought the "Esopus" idea a good one to follow up, but W. merely asked, "Tom said that—did he?" Adding— "An so 'tis"—but did not follow it up. I look for him to mend quickly or to encounter some serious set-back before long.


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