1.35 P.M. W. lying down, fanning himself. The day extremely uncomfortable—steamy. Had "not had his morning nap," he said.
I left the Ingersoll "oratory" interview with him. Last night expressed his wish to see it. Another of his expressions upon Ingersoll is this: "What does it matter for we can see all differences—his are his peculiarities—his own. Don't you remember that Shakespeare fellow—I think in Lear—Osric, wasn't it? He says when taunted for his dandifications—'Trifles, but mine own!'" W.'s gestures inimitable. "I remember how well Harry Placide rendered this—he played the character. There were several brothers, but Harry was decidedly the best. How inimitably he would act that character! It was one of the cases in which I enjoyed seeing the minor characters acted better than the principals—this was the judgment of all the wise fellows in theatricals then—though all this was well done, too. But, as I started out to say, Ingersoll's peculiarities are his own, to be respected as his own, as ours are to be respected—they are part even of his superb identity." &c.
I did not stay but very briefly. He asked if the mail had brought me any news—"None in mine," he reported. The Fourth very noisy: he did not like that, but it was a thing to be put up with.