Viewing page 121 of 332

In one of my crazy old chairs at night. 10th Decem^er 1819

My Dear Friend

   It is ^[[now]] just turn^d. of 10 by the old bulls eye. Peggy after a fatiguing half hour lullabying to her Dear Sweet little William, left me half past 9. a volume of Swift lay upon the table I picked it up read up and down here there for twenty minutes and so threw it down.  Think I to my self what the devil ails me, I am well and yet I am not. How the devil is this quoth I, have you never been in this fix my friend? When I [[strikeout]] [[?]] [[/strikeout]] one know^s not what to be at, what the notion are they to do - c: what would I had the command of such society as is befitting my excentric way ward temper. The other night I felt all over quesy I could not see what to do. Peggy was in bed and all my little ones "rapt in down (too poetical): Suppose I go to bed say, [[underline]]to myself[[/underline]]: and what then. to become the prey to foolish thoughts - no says I the bed is to sleep in at last if there^s. any more thinking to do. suppose I think ^it all [[at?]] [[once?]] & so have done with the pestiferous demon--Suppose by way of getting my thoughts in a train. & my affections  huddl^d a little more into a knot. Smite Joseph a stave or two ... The Scheme [[worked?]] & in an instant I was all over good nature & for the time was happy -  Happy! ah ha - says you
Please note that the language and terminology used in this collection reflects the context and culture of the time of its creation, and may include culturally sensitive information. As an historical document, its contents may be at odds with contemporary views and terminology. The information within this collection does not reflect the views of the Smithsonian Institution, but is available in its original form to facilitate research. For questions or comments regarding sensitive content, access, and use related to this collection, please contact transcribe@si.edu.