May 11 + 

I made some offensive remark to H⁠⸺ whom I met in the street. This set him off. + 

“You blighter, I hope you marry a loose woman. May your children be all bandy-legged and squint-eyed, may your teeth drop out, and your toes have bunions,” and so on in his usual lengthy commination. + 

I turned to the third man. + 

“Bob⁠—this!⁠—after all I’ve done for that young man! I have even gone out of my way to cultivate in him a taste for poetry⁠—until he is now, in fact, quite wrapped up in it⁠—indeed, so much so, that for a time he was nothing but a brown paper parcel labelled Poetry.” + 

H. (doggedly): “When are you going to die?” + 

“That Master H⁠⸺,” I answered menacingly, “is on the knees of the Gods.” + 

H.: “I shan’t believe you’re dead till I see your tombstone. I shall then say to the Sexton, ‘Is he really dead, then?’ and the Sexton will say, ‘Well, ’ee’s buried onny way.’ ” + 

Bob was not quite in sympathy with our boisterous spirits. + 