12. Friday. Wrote letters to Boutcher, and to Dillon Mapother. Sent them off.
Twice to Castle Garden, and in vain. Crossed to Brooklyn at sunset, with intent to
go to the Island, but could not find a boatman, so returned unwell and discontent.
Out for a brief space with Warren in the evening.
13. Saturday. Creecy called, so out with him. Perepatetic imbibition, visit,
to Castle Garden. Dined at Shelleys, then a bathe at Rabineau�s. To Governor�s
Island in the afternoon; remaining all the rest of the day and night.
14. Sunday. Very unwell all day, continuous diarrhea. Sudden change in
the weather insomuch that we had a fire at night, it being very cold. Dismally passed
day, till fire and waning.
15. Monday. Back to New York, being still queer and weak. Called at
Wall Street, Strongs &c To Leonard, thence to Canal & the bootmaker. Queer
and unfit for anything all the afternoon. Evening to Broadway. Albert Brown,
Lotty, her mother and three female visitors there, (two resident at Washington.) Lotty
sang a little, but getting piqued at the folks talking quitted the piano. Had a bit
of a quiet talk with her, she sitting beside me (par accidens) on low stool; � in black
velvet bodice and white frock, her fair plump neck and shoulders contrasting with her
jet black hair. General talk anon, and presently I and Albert Brown act as
convey to the visitors to their several destinations, Mrs K going too. I having to
squire a well-looking, curt-speaking Philadelphia born lady, whom I should not have
thought to have been wed, but subsequently Mrs K stated she was a widow. Seeing
her to her door, receiving general invite to future whist; putting the other ladies in
omnibus, we then retrograded. Albert Brown leaving, took a few turns up
and down Broadway with Mrs K, then back, where she read me parts of a M S
tale of her composition � (in the elaborately-intellectual-sentimental style.)
I am curious to know Mrs George Brown. She has ^|just| done one of the richest
absurdity conceivable. A writer in the �Tribune� having criticized � The Lord knows
with justice, her book of �poems and tales,� straightway she indites an indignant,