Gives his thoughts on the New Year. Transcription: Talk and bickering with Charley [Brown]; ? went out with Alfred [Waud] to get materials for egg-flip and thought bitterly enow how pleasant the clear wintry night with its countless stars, and biting honest atmosphere was contrasted with stove side, company and discord. There was calm and pleasant, though sorrowful thought bred by it. Fain would I that no ungentle thought should be in my heart to night living, on this last night of the Old Year, and it was sad that it should not be so. Return, dreary bits of conversation and drearier singing
Gives his thoughts on the New Year. Transcription: Talk and bickering with Charley [Brown]; ? went out with Alfred [Waud] to get materials for egg-flip and thought bitterly enow how pleasant the clear wintry night with its countless stars, and biting honest atmosphere was contrasted with stove side, company and discord. There was calm and pleasant, though sorrowful thought bred by it. Fain would I that no ungentle thought should be in my heart to night living, on this last night of the Old Year, and it was sad that it should not be so. Return, dreary bits of conversation and drearier singing. Fogg, Charley ?s friend arrives, and anon the Old Year is No More, and has passed away with his record unto Eternity. Mr [Henry] Hart and Dillon [Mapother] leave, Charley reciteth to his friend, and I steal out into Waud ?s room, and gazing out into the peaceful night give vent to the thousand sad thoughts begotten by this most wretched mode of seeing the advent of a new year. Well, ?tis gone, with all its record of travel, and thought and stray bits of Character tossed upwards by the wave of circumstance. With its carpings, its self deceptions, its half morbid musings, it ?s half formed hopes and anticipations. For Six Years have I kept this record, and many, I trow are the little, undignified entries therein to be found. Many a sly sneaking bit of self conceit perchance, many many an ill [words crossed out] judgment of those I mix with. And many a thought too of a dear face [Mary Bilton] which seems now further than ever in the Cloud land of Futurity. What a sweet and gentle face it was on the night of our first meeting ? ten years ago ? too long for Romance ? should have ended with ring and wedding bells to have made a novel. Verging on staleness ? a dull story Tom, after all. Well, drift on to the great Sea of Eternity! ?ǣPlay out the Play . ? And Enter on 1851. Scene New York, anticipations travel, pedlering Niagara, ? what you will. Friends ? (one Alfred Waud,
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