horizon, where the sun has just set in a broad lurid glare, and
over him lay a mass of huge slate-hued clouds; � seeing all
this, I felt right grievously blue-devilled as I thought
�Of what a thing is Poverty
Tis Crime, and Fear and Infamy
And houseless Want in frozen ways
Wandering ungarmented, and pain,
And worse than all, that inward stain
Foul Self Contempt, which drowns in Tears
Youths starlight smile � �
God grant this Sartain may pay what he owes me. / Going
sadly to my boarding house, (can�t say �home�) got a letter from Boutcher
, very good medecine for the devils in it; � enjoyed a hearty grin.
After tea, taking a walk called on Brinsley, at the place he�s been
at for the last week. Wrights public house, � where Joe, George
and I played bagatelle some month or two agone.
14. Sunday. Wrote a long letter to Boutcher. In the after
noon over to New York; to Christopher Street, Mr. Greatbatch�s
and family�s new location. Tea with them. Joe has written ;
and his father�s notion is he�ll not remain long. A walk
with the boys in Washington Square in the evening. Mr. G.
accompanied me some half hour in my walk Jersey-wards.
15. Monday. At work on Mr. Roberts tract. Interest-