Wednesday Morning.
May 22, 1845.
Indeed there was nothing wrong — how could there be? And there was everything right — as how should there not be? And as for the ‘loud speaking,’ I did not hear any — and, instead of being worse, I ought to be better for what was certainly (to speak it, or be silent of it,) happiness and honour to me yesterday.
Which reminds me to observe that you are so restricting our vocabulary, as to be ominous of silence in a full sense, presently. Continue reading “#29”