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intended departure.   Upon my speaking, his mother said
�Didn�t Frank tell you of it? � he told Mr P. he did.�
Well I asked Frank, and he said that his father informed
him that I had told him.    I�d held the thing as a sort of se-
cret, not indeed believing that Pounden would go, � of course
avoiding dropping a word to the obnoxious Irishman his father!
  I put this down as a trait of Irish nature. �Suspicion always
haunts the Celtic mind.� Lying and distrust are inherent in
them.  They can�t suppose a simple, straightforward action.
One Sunday morning, from sheer want of something to say to
the nasty cub, I chanced to remark that we hadn�t seen him
much of late at dinner, asking whether business kept him down
town.   Well he goes to his son with dirty suspicions that I�m
inquiring about his business &c.      Irish nature is revolting �
all through � from an O�Brien down � or up-to a Pounden.
  In doors, writing and drawing.        Leslie upin my room
a good deal � he, like Job, afflicted with boils, which prevent
him from going to Philadelphia, and taking a sick holiday.
Down town in the afternoon.   Met Stone.  He�s stopping
temporarily in New York, with his wife.    Squeaky voice as
of yore.     A true summer�s day.   Broadway full of women.
F. Leslie�s, Pic Office &c.    Return.     Gun up for an hour.
Cahill�s �drunk� has extended from last Friday till yester-
day night.    He has betted a pound of tobacco with Haney that
he�ll abstain from liquor for a month, now.                Story of
squabble between Cahill and Banks.   Cahill feeding at Honey�s
Banks (agreable man!) helps himself to a piece of bread, rub-
bing it round in Cahill�s butter-dish.       Cahill invites him to
call for something, and as he won�t, asks the boy to do so, as