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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 082 [04-22-1851]

              Dined. Young Pelham Anderson called, and out with Alf and myself to
Chatham Street, with intent to have Alf�s derogatory-type.  Lewis place full
of people awaiting his leisure, so we quitted, Pelham having before left us.
  To Del Vecchio�s Alf�s boss, and there waiting, desutory looking in at the
Art Union shop for an hour or so, at the conclusion of which time he got panel.
  Back to Canal, hurrying up his things and off to the boat. I carrying his
easel &c he a big box.     Arrived at Courtlandt, on board, see his traps
in the baggage crate and good bye to him.   I sate at the end of the pier
gazing at him, in his tall newly purchased �plug�, till the tolling of bells ceased
and the great vessel moved out into the sparkling water and glorious sunset, and 
then sadder than I had thought walked thoughtfully back along the North River
margin.     A frank cheerily-hearted fellow is he, worth a hemisphere of Charley
Brown�s.  There�s truth in him.  And here I sit, all alone in the room 
we occupied together, not over well content at missing him; � he out on the
waters of the �Sound� with thoughts anticipatory of the Bay State and what he�ll
do there.                            Returned, and the evening partly occupied in
writing a letter for the Irish girl here for her mother and family.  Simple, kindly
folk, are emigrates, toils till she can send money for the passage of another till
all are where they can live by labour.      /    Saw Albert Brown during the 
afternoon; � the first time since his sickness; � horribly disfigured is he with the
small pox, yet stout and apparently healthy.   /
  At the Art Union this Afternoon was a picture worth remembering. I saw
it for the second time, as I recall it as being at the Picture Exhibition I
visited with Morse, over a year ago.   Called by the painter a �Vision�, it
was strangely horrific, � a Vision that we might have after reading Dante.
The foreshortened figure of a man swinging in the links of a huge chain,
the upper part of which was begnown by a great serpent.  Below and
around him, even to the distance were murky black waves, with here and               
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