4.50 P.M. W. in his room, eating dinner. I had intended staying but a few minutes—went in merely with the bundle of pictures I had secured from Billstein (Medallion and 70th year), but W. was in many respects so inquisitive—talked so freely between bites, that I stayed half an hour. Talked somewhat about the Gutekunst photo. Copy of it—sample—on chair, face down. I took it in my hands. On face had endorsed in ink with his name, and on reverse lead-penciled his opinion, describing day as "sunny" and Buckwalter and Ed as his companions—and that he greatly enjoyed the three hours. I looked at the picture a long time and he at me. "It still impresses you favorably?" he asked,and on my acquiescence—"So me, too. I think it one of the best—the very best. Curiously, yes, even the coat is fine, natural—the creases, fold, texture, all three— I conceit I can even see the color!" I said, "Doctor Bucke will love this." But he looked doubtful—"I don't know—the Doctor is very whimsical—it would be hard to say what will please him. But then we may declare, whether he likes it or no, that it's good—good: its goodness, excellence is inherent." He had sent Ed over for some this morning, and got them. The copy he had written over was a sample. A number of the card photos were on the floor. He said he cared little for them. The fine version contained the history of the past year or two—for that I like it—all the pain and doubt and the rugged fight against both. "Doctor's is on the road now," he explained—Flynn came in the other evening and took it away in his arms.
As we sat there talking, my eye lighted on a manuscript sheet on the floor—which I picked up—found it an early draft of "Yonnondio." He asked—"What is it? Let me see!" And when he had got it in his hands—"Yes—I remember. Didn't you want a piece from me for some-one? Who was it?" I named our man—Bryant, of the Maine Historical Society. "Oh yes! Now I recall it. How would it do to give him this?" The sheet much trodden—rumpled—stained—no doubt long thrown about there—since publication several years ago. W. took his big pen, wrote a headline for it—"Yonnondio"—and off in the corner—
'first in 'Critic'"