5:30 P.M. W. seems in excellent condition, to judge from appearances, though he avers, "My color misreports me." And yet he has been a good deal worried today about Baker. "The tragedy has possessed me. Sad! Sad! Sad! And what is the afternoon's news? I have practically given up hope that he will recover." Accounts of Baker not better, yet not worse, either: seems to hover between safety and collapse. W. will not discuss merits—is only concerned with Baker's plight and anxiety that somehow he may be soundly delivered. Much "touched," he said, by the Colonel's telegram to his wife: "It seems impossible that anyone could be malicious enough to assassinate poor, dear, gentle Baker. Your message just received. Give our love to Baker and see that he has every care. We are well. Love to all." Maud is with him west. W. says, "How simple, strong, free—characteristic of the Colonel!"
Should I go on with the story of Bucke's trip, giving more notes to the Post? "Yes, I think I would, if I had the mind. It might have an interest for somebody."