Digest

All the morning and afternoon at my office putting things in order, and in the evening I do begin to digest my uncle the Captain’s papers into one book, which I call my Brampton book, for the clearer understanding things how they are with us.
So home and supper and to bed.
This noon came a letter from T. Pepys, the turner, in answer to one of mine the other day to him, wherein I did cheque him for not coming to me, as he had promised, with his and his father’s resolucion about the difference between us. But he writes to me in the very same slighting terms that I did to him, without the least respect at all, but word for word as I did him, which argues a high and noble spirit in him, though it troubles me a little that he should make no more of my anger, yet I cannot blame him for doing so, he being the elder brother’s son, and not depending upon me at all.

I begin to digest my book
for clearer understanding—

a letter for light
a word for spirit

for being other and not
me at all.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 19 March 1661/62.

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