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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 106 [05-19-1851]

              scene, and from no other place is their obtainable so fine a view of New York.
There were the great cannons with their dumb malelovent mouths gaping over;
the green islands, and the city.   Descending, we walk through a garden
wherein lay captured artillery, of which three of the lookers on had memory. Some
from Vera Cruz, Palo Alto, Berra Gorde &c. Talk of men slain by them, or of
those who had scaped.   /            And all this work lay embryo, latent in Roger 
brain, as in Oxford cloisters he concocted his subtle grain!  /      The soldier�s trade is
often, I think unjustly decried.  Methinks he who leads so hard a life, risks and en-
dures for so little, ranks higher than the smug tradesmen, approved and legally robbing 
a counter. A greater latitude in judging them should be had.  The noblest essays in the
soldiers trade are Mine Uncle Toby�s defence of it, and poor, good, noble Don 
grave, beautiful, discourse on the relative merits of Soldier and Scholar.     Evening a
long book talk with Barth and Creesey. Emerson, Shakspere, Homer, Schiller and
Transcendentalism.   Creesey has travelled on the shores of Italy, spake of Pompeii,
of Agrigentum, of Syracuse, of Scylla and Charybdis.     Finally we got to the ghostly,
; at about 2 getting to bed.   A pleasant time.
  20. Tuesday.  Wet awhile; which having cleared off, I went out, and wandering
to the shore, standing on the sands, with the waves plashing on my left made a drawing of the fort, Castle Williams.   Returned, parted with Barth, crossed, to New York;
called at Hutchings, then to Robinson. Drawing; and reading Levers �Con Cregan�.
Evening, as I had promised, to Canal Street.   A letter from my mother and from
Naomi.     Homer Hall out; so returned through the rain, scribbled awhile, and then
surrendered myself to the vampires.         / Mr Hart & Dillon called this afternoon.
  21. Wednesday.  Got a block to draw the �Castle� on. Engaged in it, and reading
till sunset.   A letter from Alf Waud.   Post Office folks steal the newspapers he
sends regularly.    Evening to Canal.  Writing out a description for printing of the
drilling machines, in company of his wife and himself; she spake but little. After
went alone to Mulberry Street.  Saw Mr Greatbatch and his wife; and Joe walked               
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