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Saturday, 8 August, 1829

I left home this morning with a mind full of sorrow and disagreeable reflections, as may well be supposed after having so anxiously sought for a home for the purpose of living more at ease and independent. Indeed these feelings were so intense, that after having discharged the duties of the day, i dreaded the approach of home. At last, weary and tired, i arrived at the door and was told unceremoniously that I must visit Mr. Jacob Conrad's wife as she was worse. I went and returned as soon as convenient. But, alas, the scene that awaited. That counterance resembled the gathering of the tornado in a pleasant day. None can imagine but those who feel. Am I thus doomed to pass the remainder of my life? My solicitations to know the cause were unavailing for a length of time, but when it came, all was mere imagination and came from the expressed wish of Miss Licettea Conrad, her cousin, and to whom I had handed the letter before mentioned, to have a little conversation with me alone. Such was the mighty cause, and such the course used to force obedience from husbands. In this transaction, imagination could see vice, inconstancy in their most aggravated forms. And nothing but motives of the most degrading kind could have producted the request of L. or have handed a letter unobserved, or untold. no, the idea of keeping in your own mind a secret, and not divulging the whole to your wife, is unparadonable. But my notions are quite different. When a man or any individual relates to me his own ideas and requests they be not communicated, I feel disposed not to communicate them; no, not even a wife.