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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 087 [04-25-1851]

              his being �in love� for the ninety ninth time, and also purpoting matrimony, though
not immediately.  The ladye fair is from Baltimore, none uneuphonious, Margaretta
Duff,  and from her he had just parted, she being returning for a space to her birth-
place.  How he first thought of it, � and that she had kept the illegitimate child of a dead
sister, unhelped.  /       Out with him; to Genin�s, where I stayed awhile, then persuaded
by Barth to the Island, leaving Genin�s book at a store in Greenwich Street.  A bright
sunny day, and being rowed across from the Battery, through the sparkling water,
found the objects of the late cheerless rain in the lush and lusty green lock of the grass.
To the Hospital, reading, and anon an half hours digging at a certain contemplated
garden, � the Chapel of Saint Cornelius the Centurion the first Christian Soldier on
the right, and farther off the white barracks with the gay flag flying, the fresh
sunlight in the water in the distance.   Dinner, fowl feeding, the cock as true to
old Chaucer�s description as when written five centuries ago. Reading, and when
Barth dozed, pocketted Shakspere and wandered out to the beach. There for three
good hours, thinking of Homer, of Shakspere, of Life and Death, and of Love.
The tide in, wave after wave dashing on with a lulling monotony of sound. Here
and there were little heaps of wood-refuse and weed burning, and further on
beside this fort I met a philosophic fire kindler, in regimental blue.   As I
came up, quoth he �Not destroying Sir, only changing the shape of matter. He
�hailed from� Connecticut, had been a deserter on the Mississippi, quoted Tom Paine,
and was half a prisoner, then.  /         Back to the Hospital, when Hyperions
flaming hair had sunk below the ocean line, and supper.        Reading Marryatt�s
Pacha again, then at 8 to the boat and Connor, and returned to the city.
   26.  Saturday. Dillon Mapother came, being in town for the day. With him
to Holts, to Greenwich St, for my book, to Richardson�s, the Post Office, and 
to Royals, at his shop.  Parted on Hudson Street.     Afternoon, crossed to
Hoboken, and the old spot.   And when there, what a contrast to the bleak after-
noon of our last visit.   Buds on the trees, a deep rich green sward, and leaves               
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