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It does not much become a wise man to allow his feelings to
be influenced by the atmosphere: Does it? Yet how is it with
me? This week has not been chearful & serene as former ones
Much, doubtless, must be laid at the door of consequences flowing
from the evil skies; to the want of those delicious interviews
with which the former week abounded

Prythee, dear Bess, recieve this volume of select Poetry at my
hands. Thy scruples are improper. Are not our interests united?
What belongs to one, is equally the other’s property

That mind must be strenuous that finds ever new gratifica
=tion in such a volume: Whom no languors of body; no vacancy
of thought; no impatience at what is yet to come; no regret for
the past; no peevishness for what is present can incapacitate from
finding consolation in this volume. Indeed, there is no such mind
Refuge from care; antidote to passion should be rather sought
in reflection than amusement. Company & Music will beguile
a sorrow & soothe a rage which wise reflexions cannot subdue,
but the mind of genuine force will need no other expedient to
restore its selfpossession than the latter.

Pish! Why did I fall into this austere moralizing.

My head is beclouded; my brows heavy. My sensations are
uneasy. I want to fly from them. No book but sober science is
at hand. I take up the pen to write to thee. Even that does
not drive away a certain stupor that has seized my brain.

I look forward to the evening. I find nothing to chear me
in the prospect, since I must not visit you. The evening must
pass away unwinged by thy presence. How unworthy of a great
soul is it to want resources in its own reflections & in the
instruments of pleasure & improvement which it is surrounded

I have much to do; Much to learn. The tools are at hand
yet I cannot conjure up the zeal requisite to their pleasura
=ble & successful application.~