Tuesday, December 17, 1889

     7.30 P.M. Not at W.'s more than ten minutes. He was taking his evening bath—I loafing in the bed-room meanwhile. Left with him Herbert Aldrich's book on Alaska, copy of Scribner's with Mrs. Fields' article, Cleveland's Boston speech. He took all— "a feast for tomorrow"—thought— "this book will interest me: it starts well—the print itself is a temptation." I had a note from Morse this evening, but no time to stop and read it. W. smiled— "It will do tomorrow!" Has been reading Oliver Twist. Day inclement—no outing.

     Giving me a copy of The Transcript for the 14th, he said: "Something further about Browning—and it may appeal to you—as it did to me." Adding— "But the marks are Kennedy's—not mine." Afterwards I found why he was particular to say the last—that Kennedy had noted an item headed "A wife-beater thrashed by the Justice instead of being sent to prison"—exclaiming with red pencil inserts by— "Good! Ha! Ha!"

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