Sunday, Jan 12, 1890 Had my breakfast at the St. Denis and walked up Broadway to 42nd St on my way to the 9.55 train home. It was a beautiful Indian summer day, no snow, no ice and when the train emerged from Haverstraw tunnel the river looked as it does under the dreamy atmosphere of the Indian Summer. There was not a breath of wind and no reminder that we are in the middle of the winter. There was a man in the car with a peculiarly rasping voice who talked loudly all the way about nothing. When he got out of the car at West Point, where it appears he got off for a tramp in the mountains I wondered that he had any energy left for locomotion. As he stepped out these lines occurred to me "Now silence like a poultice comes/To heal the blows of sound." It was very warm when I reached Kingston. I rode down in the car with Miss Carrie Sheffield who was returning from church.
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