8:10 P.M. W. reading—not well. "I spent a horrible day." Had written the following "memorandum," he called it, and laid out on the bed for me: Horace tell Mr Myrick if we add further to the 66 pp: I sh'd add 12 pp: (or more) as an Appendix—the main part solid brevier, with interspersed quotation bits (? nonpareil)—has he good brevier?—I haven't quite decided on the Appendix, but please ask ab't the good brevier—& if he has such— W W I asked, "Then you propose to print the Sarrazin piece anyhow?" "No, not necessarily—though I have it in mind. I am not set for it." I argued the matter with him for some time, against—and though he did not yield, said, "It is open, open—I shall keep it so. But in the meantime see what the printer has to say about the brevier." Gave me an autographed photo-engraved portrait for one of the type-setters.
Bucke writes despondently of W.'s condition. Does not surprise or worry—however it pains—me. W. gives me a little bundle of "scraps" as he calls them. Lays such things out on the bed for me.
W. said, "O'Donovan has been over again. He has no doubt started his work. I want you to go see him sometime, to get, bring, me news of his progress. He is with Eakins—you should visit both. The whole thing is like firing in the air: something may be hit—the chances are that it will not."