Friday. Sept. 9.
Lane has gone—so I shall not go! That is quite clear!—
Bro did not return last night. We therefore conclude that the Wye party proceeds this morning, & as the wind has changed, & the clouds are more scattered, the probability is greater than it wd. otherwise be.
I have been thinking over Mrs. Boyd’s letter yesterday. It certainly does strike at the most sensitive part of me (wherever that is), that Mr. Boyd shd. write to me only when he is obliged, & only what he is obliged—that he shd. not even answer my letters, but commission another person to do it!—and yet when I am with him, how can I doubt his regard for me? Sometimes it is actually & altogether impossible to do so: and if it is so sometimes, why not always? Can a person’s feelings ebb & flow in the course of two or three days? It seems evident to me sometimes, that to have me with him is his greatest happiness—or at least a very great one: and yet he grudges to write the few lines which he knows will give me happiness!— Well!—I cant understand it!—
I have been considering the Romans again today. I think that the 8th chapter must be spiritually understood—& that the 9th does not necessarily convey any doctrine of particular election. May God grant me more light & clearer knowledge.
I have made up my mind to go to Malvern tomorrow—if I can by any means. I want to talk to Mr. Boyd about Romans—, & a hundred other subjects!—& I want to see him besides!— I made a motion to the effect that there shd. be a party on the hills tomorrow, while we were gathering mushrooms on Coome hill. The ayes had it--
Think of Bro coming home, without going down the Wye. Adjourned sine die, because the clouds looked glum!— And now they are looking as bright with sunshine, as summer ever saw them looking. Stupid people!—
