Thursday, 4 September, 1828

The morning sun rose clear and bright. My practice extends so much that I have to be doing night and day. I have no time for writing and have not much new materials out of which to form a sentence. Home, with all its endearments, sometimes enters the mind at the midnight hour and whiles away the dark and silent moments. Nature has charms in the shades of night equally fascinating to those of day, and by being antagonists, one heightens the pleasure of the other.