hing for print, to come back and find the same continuous impulse of hard work in my study.
April 3, 1902.
Evening. E. E. Hale Festival— a fine meeting, thoroughly worked up and in a good cause; but I should not wish to have any injudicious friends try the same thing for me, even on a smaller scale, for my birthday.
Such occasions are carnivals of flattery, no discrimination, no one venturing to say the exact truth.
Should it ever be attempted for me, I wish to be painted as I am.
Early this morning I read over some of the opening chapters of my Cheerful Yesterdays, and it seemed like another world, though a deeply interesting and picturesque one, and I wondered whether it might be permanently read by students as a living picture of that period.
Without the slightest feeling of old age I am drifting, I suppose, toward another sphere of existence, even more strange and interesting, I dare say, than this one has been.
His admiration of the Shaw Monument by Sai