Wednesday, November 30, 2016

John Hay to John G. Nicolay, August 21, 1861

(Washington) Aug. 21, 1861.

Nothing new. An immense crowd that boreth ever. Painters, who make God's air foul to the nostril. Rain, which makes a man moist and adhesive. Dust, which unwholesomely penetrates one's lungs. Washington, which makes one swear.

There is not an item. We are waiting for your arrival to make one.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 38

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