Oct. 21st.—­Mr. Albro [12] called and stayed till dinner-time.  After dinner read Greek with Julia and then wrote a notice of Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar, and then set off for Lucy’s, where the others were already gone.  Mr. Albro has concluded to read Schleiermacher with me—­that is, to keep along at the same rate, that we may talk about it.  Letter from mother, and notes from Mr. Condit and Mr. Hamlin, with a copy of “Payson’s Thoughts” in Armenian.  Have just finished reading Mr. Ripley’s Reply to Mr. Norton.  Mr. Willis is forming a Bible-class for me to teach on the Sabbath—­am very glad.

Nov. 14th.—­Finished Lessing yesterday, and hope for a little rest from hurry.  Shall resume Schleiermacher and take up Fichte on the Destination of Man.

Nov. 22nd.—­I am afraid that I may have to be resigned to a very great misfortune; namely, to the partial loss of eyesight—­for a time at least; so yesterday I resolved to give them a holiday, though sorely against my will, by not opening a book the whole day.  Whether I should have succeeded in observing such a desperate resolution without the aid of circumstances is quite problematical, but Mr. Gray opportunely came with a request that I should take a ride with him to Cambridge, and visit the libraries there.  This occupied four or five hours, and a lyceum lecture provided for the evening.  I have always congratulated myself on being so little dependent on others for entertainment—­but never considered how entirely I am dependent on books.  If I should be deprived of the use of my eyes, I should be a most miserable creature.

Thanksgiving, Nov. 29th.—­A very pleasant and delightful day—­our hearts full of gladness and, I hope, of gratitude.  I hope dear mother and all at home are as happy.

Dec. 25th.—­How plain that all the creations of the ancient mythology are but representations of something in the heart of man!...  What is the end of man?  Infinite contradictions—­all opposites blended into one—­a mass of confused, broken parts, of disjointed fragments—­such is he.  The circumstances that surround him—­the events that happen unto him, are no less strange.  What shall be the end?  Oh then, abyss of futurity, declare it! unfold thy dark depths—­let a voice come up from thy cloudy infinite—­let a ray penetrate thy unfathomable profound.  If we could but rest till the question is decided! if we could but float softly on the current of time till we reach the haven!  But no, we must act.  We must do something. I must do something now—­WHAT?

Evening. But as the morning.  In the afternoon I was talking with L. W. [13] with as much eagerness and vivacity as if I had never known a cloud.  This evening I was going to a dance at the Insane Hospital.  For me truly it has been a day of opposites—­all the elements of life have met and mingled in it.