Sunday, 12 July, 1829

It is a pleasant moring; all seemed to indiciate an unclouded day. And new scenes of conjugal felicity were anticipated, and all seemed favorable to that end, and where are they? Ending in reverses. It is useless for me ever to calcuate beforehand of participating at any specified time any of those laudable amusements which cheer the gloomy hours that sometimes infest the mind. And this is more the case where we are dependent for room on others. Our wishes must yield to theirs. Yet so it is, and so it must be; if then it be unavoidable, why murmur, why repine, or suffer those dejected feelings which only add a deeper tinge to every disagreeable idea? Indeed, I can bear these disquietudes without any expression of them, yet I feel them in my own happiness. I see an evident gloominess in the countenance of my esteemed wife.