Feb. 14th. Up pretty betimes, and, very merry, by foot to the office reading a Valentine: "I play for your heart, sweet one, Yet win it may I never do; For it isn't the prize I crave But only the game to pursue: La, la!" It be signed, "Fanny". But, bless my soul, I know no "Fanny". Yet if "Fanny" be as bad as her poetry, methinks nothing is missed, La, La!

Thence, I to the Germanic Museum at 10 o'clock to hear Dr. Kuhn lecture on "Rubens" and mighty well, too! Peter Paul Rubens, as all do know, be a great 17th century Flemish painter; and, as Guido Reni says: "A fellow who mixes blood with his colors." Yet, I am sore at my heart to confess, I do not like his large women too much. He doth seem to make a virtue of sheer flesh. But who be I to judge? One critic says: "To Rubens, flesh was enticing in its largeness, its soft luminosity, its creamy evenness of tint...and he painted it with more sense and joy and, as far as color is concerned, with more insight than any other man." Well, methinks, every man to his tastes.

Thence, at 11 to the New Lecture Hall to hear Dr. Buck on "The North in War Time"; and anon at 12 to the Fogg Small Room to hear Professor Post on "General Characteristics of Modern Sculpture."

By and by to lunch at Winthrop House where I note a merry dance is to be held Feb. 21st; but I must confess I do think the poster which doth announce the affair be in poor taste. This I did tell some ones but all they did say was: "We don't expect you to bring your Grandmother!" Alas, I back to the Tower to lick my wounds.

Whereupon, after reading much of the romance of Dante and Beatrice I to bed but not long, for a Valentine did come:

"You put my heart in such a flutter, I wire the love my lips would utter"! Collect, signed "Fanny". This, the Postal Company tells me, be canned sentiment 404 and comes from New Haven. But I no more of St. Valentine and so to bed.