1. Sunday. At the Office coloring the perspective all � the
morning and afternoon. Young Fred Anderson with me, he
reading Paul de Kock�s Andrew The Savoyard. In
the afternoon Mapother and Waud called, and we walked
back together. Mapother had for me the two final
numbers of Copperfield; the which I had great pleasure
in lying on the bed and reading, partly aloud to Waud.
Oh Charles Dickens many a happy hour hast thou given
me, and little did I, in my school-boy days, speculate
on getting thy green covered numbers to read in Yankeeland.
2. Monday. Office. Perspective pushed and sent off.
Boys tossing for pies and brandy &c. Evening with Waud
and Charley, smoking, talking, and scribbling these last two
pages � with aching eyes.
3. Tuesday. Naught to do at the office till the Governor returneth, so
my time mine own. In doors all the drizzling despondent day. Household
jobs, button sewing, trouser cleaning &c. Talk some little, Waud at
work on canvass, read more. Wrote to Naomi in the evening. Morse
called and paid for Nassau street nocturnal work.
4. Wednesday. Rain still. To the Era Office � saw Tom Frank.
Then to Morse�s, anon to the Life Office, where I found Hawkins in-
stalled as editor. A few more calls, then ascending Fowler�s buildings
found Charley seated at one end of the long room talking, or rather
listening to the talk of a literary lady. Oh me what a bore she
was! That the world was all wrong, that every one should do his
or her best to turn it upside down � that she knew herself, and
by the omnipotence of her will, could mould and impel all about