Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Brooklyn, November 5, 1849 - November 7
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
good. They are interested in socialism, but more
as amateurs than as militant actors, though Marcus
has associated several of his clerks with him in his
business. But he belongs to the class who do not
like to talk much about what they do. The family
consists of three children.[1]
There is much more poetry here, much more
of the romance of life, than we have imagined.
Life here is a new youth. Even the climate is
youthful, but not always most agreeably so: it is
very fickle. The first days I spent in Brooklyn
were so bitterly cold that I was frozen, both body
and soul. Now for three days it has been so warm
that I have lain at night with my windows open,
have seen the stars shining through the Venetian
shutters, and been saluted in the crimson dawn by
the mildest zephyrs of that air and that odor which
has in it something magical.
November 7. I have not been able to write for
several days. My life is a daily warfare against
kindness, politeness, and curiosity, during which
I am often weary and worn out. Often, also, I
feel the wafting influence of an extraordinary
youthfulness and enjoyment gush through my soul.
I felt this one day during a conversation with the
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
