[London—Thursday, 20 May 1869]
Thursday. Went to see William Morris, maker of painted glass windows and objects of medieval art. Poet also. We found a healthy honest man, frank clear eyes, blue blouse embroidered with white thread. A quaint house, shop underneath in a part of London forsaken by fashion looking out on the pleasant green of Queen’s Square Bloomsbury. He is nervous and at first did not quite understand our visit, but received us most hospitably as friends of Norton. He soon discovered why we were there. It was delightful to see how thought could be put into every object a house contains and so render it a more fitting habitation for immortals. There was an embroidery frame, like those of the old time in one window where evidently Mrs. Morris still works after the old style.