Did not go out of my studio until this evening. Did not send the Wilson picture home today. Gifford made some criticisms on it last night which confirmed my own impressions and I concluded to paint on it today which I have done. I made the dangerous experiment of painting on the sky which necessitated painting the tree tops all over, but I think I have improved it. I am going home tomorrow and will leave it until I return. I wrote Mrs. Wilson a note telling her I could not send it today. The frame suits it very nicely. Taylor came in and sat a while. This evening he and I went to hear Moody and Sankey at the Hippodrome. The great place was filled. The preaching of Moody is for other people than me, the same old thing I tired of as soon as I began to think. Sankeys singing was very sweet, a very pleasant sympathetic voice. We had platform seats but were a long distance from the preachers. The means of exit are atrocious and I would not sit an evening in the midst of that great crowd on any account, even to save my soul by their process. There was no ventilation and the air was such as they breathe in hell. I have satisfied my curiosity.
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