_Nov. 29._ It was no killing thing either. Much worse would it be to hang. for the moon was bright, The snow full of reflection, I full of breakfast, & Nate full of fire. While the cocks of the country crowed about us for musick & the stars shot this way & that about the heavens, as if making a display of fireworks for our amusement. All was silent. As we rose the hills & looked back upon the far distance which ran down the valley to the south east, the two extremes of the splendor of the united powers of snow & moonbeams & and the contrasted darkness of the deep ravines into which light would not penetrate, filled the whole view. I often stopped to admire the cold but burnished beauties of the prospect & felt the magnificence of the scene. I found Geo. up, tho I little expected it when I turned a corner to take a look at his window. I had little thought of seeing a light there at that time of the night—I ran upstairs opened the door an inch and inquired if Mr. Gibbs lived there. Then we laughed ourselves to death & disturbed the neighbors. Mr. Chambers in the backroom inquired who the Devil had come & being told, said, he “thought t’was him.” breakfasted there & told stories till I thought I had told too many. “William is indeed engaged to Miss Rodgers. Little Taylor,[61] you remember him—he is mentioned in orator Ogilvies book as a rare specimen has killed himself for the love of Miss Swift.” “Your affair with Parson B. is much misrepresented here & the old women shake their heads whenever your name is mentioned. I do not blame myself neither does he blame me. Aaron Burr told a student of his, to rise in the morning with this determination—“_As I shall never see this day again I will today do all that can be done in one day._” “Daggett’s letter pleased Reeve & his family very much.” When I turned my face homeward I felt the inconvenience of 3 pairs of pantaloons, 2 of stockings, 2 shirts and 2 great coats. Now I think my ride too good a one to grumble about. _Dec. 1_ Cousin John good fellow has come thro this piercing wind to bid me goodbye before he goes to New York—that maelstrom, that whirlpool of business into whose vortex so many of our best young men are attracted & drawn away from their own firesides. [New York in 1820!—Ed.] John thinks he has suffered enough from this ride to atone for a great many sins.