7.20 P.M. W. in his own room, reading. Despite severity of weather, W. went out in his chair today—making a trip (downtown) of about 25 minutes and coming back quite blue from the cold. He thinks, however, he is "greatly [braced]" by the fresh air so gained.
Asked me about Morris' lecture last evening. I gave him "Demeter," brought in to me by Morris today. At first he did not see M.'s inscription to him, "with veneration and love," saying "Oh! so this is the book! I shall take good care of it, give it back to him before long"—but when he did, exclaimed—"How kind! I have ardently wished to see the old man's last, and here it is! It will be of great interest to me"—looking through it—"Oh! how they've 'drawn it out,' as the printers say! made the most of it—leaded it, double-leaded, yes, triple-leaded!" And examined it closely, commenting on headlines as he went along—admiring the printing—noting it was foreign (Macmillan publishing).
He is still reading "The Deerslayer"—now about half through. Referring to the recent Old English imitations done by some of our young poets: "What the devil are the boys up to now?"