.. by six I had started another breakfast, and by
seven, after having spoiled and burned much food, I was tolerably ready
for customers ... who seemed, at that hour, to storm the place.
* * * * *
It is not necessary to go into detail. In three days I was through. And
I had my first fight with Barton.
* * * * *
I was back in my army tent once more, free, with my Shelley, my Keats,
my manuscript....
In despair of ever returning to Hebron, once more I lay under starry
nights, dreaming poetry and comparing myself to all the Great Dead....
With the top of the tent pulled back to let the stars in, I lay beneath
the gigantic, marching constellations overhead--under my mosquito
netting--and wrote poems under stress of great inspiration ... at times
it seemed that Shelley was with me in my tent--a slight, grey form ...
and little, valiant, stocky Keats, too.
* * * * *
After my quarrel with Barton, he tried to oust me from that desirable
site the Bishop's wife had turned over to me ... indeed, he tried to
persuade me to leave the colony. But I would not stir.
There was a young fellow in the "City" named Vinton.... Vinton was the
strong man of the place. He spent three hours every morning exercising,
in minute detail, every muscle of his body .
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