10.05 A.M. W., his breakfast finished, was reading the morning papers. He spoke of Emerson, "the questioning Emerson"—of the young men who saw him and whom he "profoundly questioned"—explaining—"This was because he had nothing to tell that he thought would interest them, while everything they had to tell would interest him." He confessed this was often his own attitude of mind "in contact with fresh youth."
"Is it like to rain?" he asked me, and said he "promised" himself to get out if it did not.
Advised me to "send book to Forman—and write him, too." Thinks I should write to Symonds, also. "I cannot write long letters—you can tell him all about affairs here."