the publisher Peterson�s, � a thickset, bull-headed
looking man � and collected $8 for Levison. Also
visited the publishing office of the Saturday Evening
Post, on my own account. (This was all the attempt
I made at business.) Wrote letters to my mother,
Dillon, Alf Waud and his brother. The days pas-
sed rather gloomily, my health and spirits not being
of the best. Mr Greatbatch was unostentatiously
kindly, and talked of Illinois. What a weary ex-
perience have they had of it, and how enduringly
he has met all. Poor Mary Anne! she needed sym-
pathy and hope for herself, yet found it for me!
I could never endured what her husband has.
I should have gone mad, or committed suicide long ago.
He will end in success � and deserves it.
If there be one word that contains more of the essence
of Hell than another it is � Poverty. It means fear,
self-distrust, sickness � deterioration of mind and body,
life long Misery.
12. Saturday. Return to New York, by
boat on the Delaware to Tacony, and thence by
rail. Reached Bleecker by 2 1/2. Bathing, dining,
and walk in the evening, after half an hour in the
basement with its occupants.
13. Sunday. Attempt to find where Banks �
or rather his landlady, my washerwoman � has removed
to. In-doors all the afternoon. To Chapin�s
in the evening, subsequently dropping in at the Ed-