7.49 P.M. W. in his room reading a copy of the Boston Transcript sent him by Kennedy. I remarked his rare good look, and he acknowledged he "felt very well." Then asked, "How is the weather out of doors? Mildened? I supposed so—felt it in my bones. It is too warm here now?" Remarked how the Pan-American Congress had dropped out of sight. "I read the accounts as long as they were to be had. They were some of the things I was sure to read at once and enjoy." He had had a letter from Bucke today. "He said your note was there." B. had "quieted down on the book question"—probably from feeling his book was on the road.
W. described Ed's trip to town. "He was out to see Tom Donaldson. Tom has had quite a serious accident: fell down and broke his arm. He is building a house somewhere—as I understand it, was up on the scaffold—in some way a board broke or slipped under him, and down he went. His arm appears to be paralyzed. This happened in the summer. He seems to have taken quite a fancy for Ed and Ed for him." This led to talk of Ed's going away. W. spoke more on the subject than heretofore: "Ed has not said anything to me aboutwhen he was going away. So it is so soon as next week, if he can? I wanted him to stay—wanted him badly. I have made no endeavor to persuade him, but have felt he was making a mistake. It would have been a great deal better for him to make up that little matter of the money, the fee—for that appears to have been, to be, the prime stumbling-block. Ed is young—it would pay him—the experience would be inestimable. I have had other ideas, plans, for him, too. It was my idea that he should make this his headquarters—then stretch out some—see more of the States,—before he went back. Stretch to the North—take in New York—and go South to Washington, Baltimore, other places. Oh! it is all of life to a young man to look the world face to face at many points! I have never said anything of this to Ed himself—and now, of course, it is too late—it is overruled." As to a new nurse, W., "We're all hoping it will be the right man." And when I spoke of the virtues of the young negro at Harned's—"Well—I have not the slightest objection in the world to a darky—not the slightest." To my notion that we must not have a reader of books, W. laughed out an "amen!" I had a letter from Brinton today assuring me he would do what was possible, and Ed, I learned, had consulted with Gould,—at first without success, but is to go tomorrow again.
Weston will have in his Ethical lecture course the coming winter Percival Chubb—who he informs me has a lecture on Walt Whitman. He is a young traveling Englishman. W. said—"God help him!" ending with a laugh.