John St. John

12.15 י12.35 1.15. 215 3. 30. 340. JOHN ST. JOHN John St. John is aching all over, cannot get comfort— able anyhow; is hungry, and has no appetite; thirsty, and loathes the thought of drinking! He must do something—something pretty drastic, or he will find himself in serious trouble of body and mind, the shadows of his soul, that is sick unto death. For “ where are now their gods?” Where is the Lord, the Lord Adonai? The beast feels decidedly better; but whether he is more concentrated one may doubt. Honestly, he is now so blind that he cannot tell! Perhaps a “cafe, cognac, et Cigare” may tune him up to the point of either going back to work, or across Paris to the Hammam. He will make the experiment, reading through his proofs the while. One good thing; the Chittam is moving slowly. The waiters all hurry him—what a contrast to last night l Proofs read through again. John St. John feels far from well. A stroll down the Boul’ Mich’ and avisit to M—’s studio improve matters a good deal. The cure continued. No worry about the Work, but an effort to put it altogether out of the mind. A cafe creme, forty minutes at the Academic Marcelle —a gruelling bout without the gloves—and J St. Jr is at the Luxembourg to look at the pretty pictures. The proof of the pudding, observes the most mystic of discourses (surely !), is in the Eating. 117