the latter to poke me up about Story. Down town, dined at the
Rainbow, called at Picayune, Fulton Street & Avery�s office. Got
lot of little things at 12 1/2 cents each to do for him. Back and work.
Writing, wearily. Returning from my cheap supper met Hillard
brother of Oliver (whom I met in Lake Superior.) and shortly after
he came up. The little hook nosed, well bearded hearty fellow was
glad to see me, which pleasure I shared. They to the theatre, and
I to my room & pen work.
26. Wednesday. Drawing in the morning. Writing anon.
27. Thursday. Writing, getting nervous, hypochondriacal, discon-
tent with myself. Thoughts of a thousand things past and present,
all evil, self distrust sitting like an Incubus on my soul. Parton
came up in the afternoon, and gave me a glimpse of pleasure in the
intelligence of the fall of Sebastopol, which in a few ensuing minutes
the newsboys were crying beneath my window, making all Broad-
way vociferous with it. I�m glad of it, heart and soul. Whitelaw
called at 6 or later, and found me recumbent, trying to think I
might doze awhile. All day long the sunlight had seemed to reproach
my loneliness and a brainsick endeavours to write. Each sentence I
have penned seemed harsh, disjointed, awkward, miserable.
28. Friday. Inconceivably miserable.
29. Saturday. Misery continued. Akin almost to insanity.
Thinking I�m to be a failure. Down town to the Fulton Street shop at
supper time, feeding with Alf & Sol. In the park subsequently
where cannons were being fired, in honor of some Tammany Hall mob.
Felt more lonely than ever. To Whitelaws, at Spring Street. His
good little wife was bustling about, he telling me of his entering