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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 031 [12-31-1850]

              Talk and bickering with Charley; � went out with Alfred to get materials for
egg-flip and thought bitterly enow how pleasant the clear wintry night with its count-
less stars, and biting honest atmosphere was contrasted with stove side, company
and discord.  There was calm and pleasant, though sorrowful thought bred
by it.  Fain would I that no ungentle thought should be in my heart to night
living, on this last night of the Old Year, and it was sad that it should not
be so.   Return, dreary bits of conversation and drearier singing.   Fogg, Charley�s
friend arrives, and anon the Old Year is No More, and has passed away
with his record unto Eternity.   Mr Hart and Dillon leave, Charley reciteth
to his friend, and I steal out into Waud�s room, and gazing out into 
the peaceful night give vent to the thousand sad thoughts begotten by this most
wretched mode of seeing the advent of a new year.
                Well, �tis gone, with all its record of travel, and thought and
stray bits of Character tossed upwards by the wave of circumstance. With its
carpings, its self deceptions, its half morbid musings, it�s half formed hopes
and anticipations.   For Six Years have I kept this record, and many, I trow
are the little, undignified entries therein to be found.   Many a sly sneaking bit
of self conceit perchance, many many an ill [words crossed out] judgment
of those I mix with.   And many a thought too of a dear face which
seems now further than ever in the Cloud land of Futurity.  What a
sweet and gentle face it was on the night of our first meeting � ten years
ago � too long for Romance � should have ended with ring and wedding bells
to have made a novel.  Verging on staleness � a dull story Tom, after all.
Well, drift on to the great Sea of Eternity!  �Play out the Olay�.
And Enter on 1851.         Scene New York, anticipations travel, pedlering
Niagara, � what you will. Friends � (one Alfred Waud, � can�t
call Charley one � the personal pronoun is too prominent.   I would
I could think him one.        Here�s Barth an� the stage again, after               
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