Did not see W. today. Weather fair—very mild—light misty murky clouds across sky all day. One part of last night's talk should be added here. I said to W., "'Leaves of Grass' does a good deal to make one feel as Schiller felt about immortality." "Indeed? Makes you to feel not too sure of it—yet not to doubt it, either?" "Exactly." "Well, I don't know a better lesson than that—don't know what I could wish of 'Leaves of Grass' that could be superior. It is the best out of science—that spirit of rest, of a sure something-or-other breathing through the universe." Then, "Do you really mean, Horace, that 'Leaves of Grass' has been a positive help to you? That it has any way lifted you?" And to my fervent, "Yes! It has become a part of me, bone and marrow, and has been the sun of many dark days, making me sure of light anyhow and where," he cried out, "Oh! That is grand! It is its immortality—its future!"
Brentano's writes: "We regret to say that we have not the copy of Nouvelle Revue in stock containing the article by Sheppard on Walt Whitman, but can import you a copy for 78 cts. We think you could receive same in about three weeks after your order reaches us." I send word back: "All right, let us have the magazine. We can wait three weeks, or four, if necessary." W. remarked, "I suppose it is well to get it—well. Though when we get it we may find it comes to little." "Well, if we find that, we will at least have got rid of an unsatisfied curiosity." He laughed, "I don't know but that effect's as good as the other! Anyhow, use your own judgment. I find you usually go right!"