My dear Lieutenant, you will not only bruise, but break, my head with your clatter.

Mercy! mercy! However, here I am at the end of my letter, and I shall leave the two demoniacs to tear each other to pieces.
Ever yours T.B.M.
To Hannah and Margaret Macaulay.
Library of the H.of C.July 30, 1832, 11 o'clock at night.
My dear Sisters,--Here I am.

Daniel Whittle Harvey is speaking; the House is thin; the subject is dull; and I have stolen away to write to you.

Lushington is scribbling at my side.

No sound is heard but the scratching of our pens, and the ticking of the clock.