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