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120_Page 118New.York. Tuesday. 28.th September. 1841.

A sultry, oppressive atmosphere, with showers at intervals. I remained at home all day, occupied in sewing. Ripped my dark silk for alteration. Walked out with Garret in the evening, took a glass of Jelly in Canal Street. Moschetoes [sic], still numerous and troublesome. Expected mother to night, she did not come, on account of the weather. Garret rubbed my right breast with lineament [sic] I had a shooting pain through it. He doctors me up in Fine Style; telling me to drink wine, ale, porter, even brandy.

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