The waves were dancing all tumultuously
Unto the piping of the wild west wind,
Which a fresh welcome blew upon my face
As chin on palm, and arm on knee depending,
I gazed out, where o�er the watery way,
The Sun had sunk. On the horizon�s verge
Were bars of glorious, awful, blood-red light
Piled one above another, checquering
A sky of molten gold. And up, above
Strange shaped clouds all of a violet hue
Most beautiful �
Made a call at Mr Greatbatch�s subsequently.
9. Monday. At work on wood, the drawing for Foster. Finishing
at about 3, out with it. (An acquaintance of Jabez Wing�s calleth at noon
and stateth that he himself may arrive thither shortly.) To Corbyn�s.
Then to Day Book Office. Foster not there. A call at Duane Street. Then
to Spruce Street, Brown�s & Butlers. There for half an hour, then walked
home together. Drawing in the Evening till 11.
10. Tuesday. To Pictons, to the Day Book Office &c successless and
blue devilled. Left-block at the latter. Saw Corbyn, bade me call
again on Thursday. Afternoon, Hunter calls, telling me he goes to
Mobile on the morrow. After a smoke, I went out with him. A
walk up the sixth Avenue. Called on an auld Scotsman, like