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Thursday, April 30, 1891

Thursday, April 30, 1891

7:55 P.M. Took but a glimpse in at W. this evening, as he was in no condition to talk and I was besides in a hurry to get to Philadelphia. On his bed, the light lowered—room very dark—but he knew me the instant I came into the room, greeting me by name. I said, "And yet you think your sight is gone!" At which he laughed, "I knew you by your coat-tails!" How was he? "I can hardly say. This has not been one of my best days, nor one of my worst, either. I barely manage to keep afloat—there is no margin to play with. Here I am—and that's about all I can report." I had not the wine yet—but would get it tomorrow. He laughed—shook his finger at me. "We want the genuine, now! And how easy it is to be defrauded—to get sham sherry, sham madeira, sham this, that—is quite the general result." Contents pages not touched. I suggested that we might delay the book beyond his birthday, "But no—I guess we can do it—make the date." And then, "I have been on the bed here, more or less, all day—seem to love the bed more and more—which is a bad sign." His article has at last appeared in Truth. "I am relieved to hear of it," he said—though no copies of paper here yet. Was a little afraid they might delay it beyond the issue of the book (in which it also appears)—"which would put me in a bad light." One funny thing about book is, its O'Connor preface, appearing here before in O'Connor's own book! W. laughed heartily when I joked about it. "Do you know, Horace—it never occurred to me." Left Current Literature with him.

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