Left Philadelphia in 5 P.M. train—no baggage but my umbrella, a comb, a toothbrush, a collar and W.'s package for Mrs. Ingersoll. Good ride over—reading "Leaves of Grass"—copy of Twentieth Century—dozing part of the time—no companions. Bush at Jersey City side of ferry—introducing me to a Mr. Goldmark (brother-in-law of Adler). At once across the river—up to Bush's in 6th Avenue elevated—to 18th. He lives 17th in old Jerome house there—from which Lady Randolph Churchill was married. Introduced to his wife—left package there—out and up 6th Avenue to "The Studio," a unique drinking and dining room frequented I am told by artists and professional people—the wall full of pictures—surroundings plain but in true touch. Pleasant time—talk—our table—for an hour: then back to his rooms—further chat there, Mrs. Bush sharing. A small, bright, earnest woman—not, as I interpreted Bush, over strong. They were very curious about Whitman—questioning me happily—in ways to which I enjoyed responding. Left package of photos with Bush. He would take to his office—35 Wall St. (near Bob's). I would call about noon—we would have dinner and deliver portraits in company. After the good night to the wife, Bush and I sauntered out and east to Johnston's (305 E. 17th)—Bush leaving me at door. No one up there but girl who directed me to my room. Did not see Johnston at once. But by and by, as I sat in the room reading, he appeared in undress at the door between my room and another—coming forward—putting some immediate queries to me about myself and W. Everything comfortable and easy—unmistakable to me. Sat up till I had finished "Victor Hugo: En Voyage"—North American Review. Signs of intellect and body the room about—and in front, glistened with electric light, Stuyvesant Square—yielding a sense of freedom and repose and hush apart from the busier thoroughfares adjacent on every side. Good night!