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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 064 [03-13-1851]

              who is possessed of all vulgar virtues, while Aristocracy is shewn as utterly
base.   Both errors, and much less excuse for the former, as a scholar
and gentleman should know better  .         And Mr Samuel Warren you�re
a Snob too, as well as you�re here, or you wouldn�t read so in
dubbing Aubrey �Lord Drelincourt.�   You repeat the title to a fearful ex-
tent; only in one place allowing him to condescend to assure good old Doctor
Tatham �that to him he shall ever be Charles Aubrey!�             The fashion
of giving names suggestive of natures is, I think, an unwise one, as it de-
feats its purpose. Gammom would be a much more respectable rascal 
without so vulgar a title.  The description of his suicide is the very best
bit in the book.                  There, � it may go, but what, oh
what is Such a book as compared with David Copperfield?
  14. Friday.   Preparation for Hobokenizing during the morning.  Witnessing a
�sitting� of little Mrs Dob for her portrait, ([word crossed out] ^|chaffing| her meanwhile, 
of Tilton, of
Cross, of Barth and other suppository admirers, greatly to her delectation.  After
dinner crossed the river, Mr Hall the Elder accompanying us.  Parting with him
we jog on to the old spot.  Arrived, the envious rack of clouds hide the sun�s
disc for the remainder of the day, rendering the atmosphere chilly.  Ascent to the
Cranlech, and above it, and set about another sketch. Alf Waud setting light
to the dead leaves and brushwood on the summit of the rocks, a proceeding
provocative of unlimited canine howlings from the shanties below, and anon of
the advent of two Dutchmen their owners, who ascend, and inform us �we�ve
got to clear out.�  We chaff �em, they say there�s law in Jersey, � we tell
�em it would be a dismal place if there were not; � one says the rocks are
his� � we inquire whether the atmosphere adjacent is included in the little deeds.
Finally they quit, and we draw on unmolested, till cold hands no longer
guide pencils freely. Then we strike into the thickets on the summit,
and in a hollow make a fire of dead cedars and have a most lux-               
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