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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 029 [02-22-1855]

              23.
  22. Thursday.  Bit of a walk to George Clarke�s, he still
out of town; also to Sam�s in the evening, Mrs Heath being there.
I saw her husband also, meeting him at omnibi-starting point.
  23.  Friday.  In-doors and matagrabolized, trying to draw,
write, read and effecting naught but the latter.     Wrote to Hannah.
  24. Saturday.   Stroll London bridge-wards, the streets slushy
and filthy, the thaw loosening the ice flakes on the Thames, so that
they were drifting lazily downwards with the tide, and the noisome
river appeared dirtier than I ever recollect to have beheld it.     Ere
I started Mr John Jackson called.  One of most unamiable varieties
of Englishmen is he, and could I recollect all Whitelaws detail of him,
the character would be worthy of a page.   He over-eats himself frightfully,
he is (of course always ill,) always taking physic, he is a tyrant over
all dependants, is a �deacon� and affects sectarianism, is hated by his
kinsfolk, and has taste and ability in his profession.  He is always
swallowing tea, would send boys out of his shop for saveloys, rail at
them if they were not from a particular shop, say they were made of soldiers
coats &c.     He is a portly man, with a bald retreating forehead, glib
withal.    /                 This evening I had another visitor, Mr Brown,
(Charley Damoreau�s elder brother.)    He has bidden me to tea-drinking
next week.     I�m not prepossesed by the man, at present.  He
talked very fluently, now about the state of things in the Crimea, �
rampantly against Aristocracy, saying that Alberteen ought to die a hun-
dred deaths, that �the people should present themselves in a mass at the
Palace� &c &c and the like bosh; then about the �dear Duchess
of Sutherland, her loss of her son would kill her � she�d never survive
it,� and to such shop-keeper-souled twaddle.   I really think he�d               
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