MONDAY, JANUARY 1, 1900 - New years and not one good resolution made. This sin of omission possesses at least one virtue. I shall be saved the mortification of breaking any. The discussion as to this being the first year of the twentieth century waxes furious, and to no purpose as far as I can see. What matter it? It would add nothing to the sum of human happiness were all to finally become of one mind:- And then there are so many matters of graver import to grovel about. The weather is fairly typical of the day, cold and blustery, lacking nothing but several inches of snow to make it wholly so. Spent the forenoon at the office and the afternoon at home reading. Much taken with Stevenson's Letters. They are delightfully facinating, tinctured with just enough sad somberness to balance the authors opulent optimism. His good spirits seem nothing short of wonderful in the light of his intense suffering. His letters certainly speak of a Noble Soul. Passed the evening playing pedro. A quiet end to a quiet day.
Harry B. Cleveland.