I wrote to your
Quaker friends thanking
them for the invitation
for the 22d. I could not
have gone in any case,
my wife was ill in bed
& I had to go to Delaware
Co to examine a bank,
Ursula (the wife)
Ursula was ill in N.Y.
She had a relapse after
returning home, & has had
a hard time,—ague, bron upa.00010.002_large.jpgchitis, & a gathering in her
ear. She is better now & is
down stairs to-day for the
first in nearly two weeks. My own
health is nothing to brag of,
I thought the trouble was
with my nervous system,
but the doctor finds it
in my arterial; arteries
hard & brittle, danger
from apoplexy &c. Not
a very cheering diagnosis
tho', I may live to be
hanged yet. I have
given up eating meat
& have otherwise changed
my habits—shall probably
upa.00010.003_large.jpg
go out home in the spring
& spend the season on the
old home farm. I seem
to have felt a shadow creeping
over me for some years,
& this is what it means.
But I shall not lose heart:
I shall try to gain some of your
own cheerfulness & serenity.
I wish much I could see
you. If you had only sent
me word that day, I was
on the point of coming over,
but felt sure I should
miss you if I did.
I received your check for
$100 all right. I have a
little glimpse of Carlyle &
upa.00010.004_large.jpg
his country in the March
Atlantic.
I hope you keep well. Is there any news from Boston about the effort to stop the sale of your poems?
With much love John Burroughs