Wednesday, 11 August, 1830

Morning is beautiful and pleasant. Rode out soon. It is most certainly a pleasure to be surrounded by all the beauties of nature in a fine summer morning. To hear the varied melodious notes sounded by the voices made by nature, uncontaminated by the vices of man. Everything seems to rejoice at the bounties of the creator. All seem to find plenty to satisfy all demands and are satisfied. But see, there appears one of God's noblest works, said to be formed in express image of his creator, placed at the head of all those happy creatures I have listened to this morning. And how does he appear. Sad and sorowful, full of trouble, full of complaints, full of anxiety, loaded with cares, bent down with age and infirmity, toiling to forthat which he consumed yesterday. Does not the question here arise: why this difference? Would we not supose the more superior in the scale of creation, the more rejoicing, the more happiness, the more of ease and comfort?