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