10th February 1826

I must confess that I am no better than Percy Muzzle when it comes to LOVE. For I spent much of this evening lounging in the drawing room, looking across the road at No. 13, thinking of her. I can now confidently state that the front of the house has forty-one iron railings; ten windows (two with iron guards); and, by my calculation, four thousand three hundred and fifty bricks. I wished that some friendly hurricane would tear away those bricks and show me my love – [note to self: idea for a poem? or too meteorological?] – then Fanny came in and asked why I had not drawn the curtains. I remarked that I was merely gazing into the night and contemplating the eternal verities (v. good!). She laughed at me and replied, ‘well, I declare, Charley, I look forward to reading your article in the Westminster Review.’

I told her that she only made herself appear foolish by always trying to have the last word; and withdrew to my room before she could muster a reply.