7. Saturday. Down-town to �Courier� Office.
Gayler looking burly, sulky and seedy; English,
Briggs. Smith has been sick, away the whole
week. To �Nic-nax� office, Haney there; the �Ir-
ving � don�t go very well. P. O., then up-town.
One of the miserablest of days, atmospherically,
mentally and pecuniarily. Drawing on wood
till 11 at night, Morris and Cahill present.
The former got $25 from �Vanity Fair� to-day,
for three contributions. His are really the best
things that have appeared in the thing. I�ve not
sent anything, inasmuch as I�m pretty sure that
the young squirt, Frank Wood, would enjoy the
opportunity of practically resenting my involuntary
castigations of him in the �Pic.�, when I pitched
into old Powell for his vilification of Dickens.
Also I know that the O�Brien and Clapp clique
would be sure to accord foul play; good and
sufficient reasons both. Young Wood�s shallow-
ness has got him virtually superseded, though
he nominally retains the position of editor. He
must have been very amusing in that capacity,
�slinging around � his French phrases, as Cahill
would say. He did this to an extent provoking
Arnold and House to rebuking him with an
�Oh! yes! Peanuts!� whenever it occurred,
in allusion to my joke on him in the �Pic.�