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I am sorry to hear of your feeling so unwell, & have thought about it probably more than you think—bad enough any how to feel sick or half sick, & specially so with one that has so much depending upon her, (& a pretty ambitious spirit too)—I thought I would write you a few lines, & may-be it might cheer you a little—Things go on quite the same with me—a little more quiet than usual since I got back from Boston (I suppose you got the letter & papers I sent you while I was there)—I had a lively time in Boston—Susan I wish you could have been there the evening of my lecture—it was such a collection of people as would have suited you, & been a study—different from any I ever saw in my life before—fully one half were women—something different in all of them from the usual crowd—about 300—(I will tell you more when I see you)—
As I write this part of my letter, just come up from dinner—we had a great fat
sweet baked shad, just right—what is better once in a while for dinner than
good fresh fish, & potatoes?—(I remember you too are fond of fish
sometimes)—shad are unusually good & plenty now—I wish I could send
you & George down a couple of big fresh ones, such as I see them bringing in
every haul, from the river—A middling fair rain here to-day & last
night—it is raining as I write—well I am glad of it, for it will do a
power of good—our street begins to look first rate with the long rows of
trees, five squares of them now all out in leaf—strawberries are already
huckstered about the street—I
suppose the manners "the
peace of heaven"—I enjoyed myself first rate just being with
them—(besides the good things)—
Susan what do you hear about old Mrs. Morgan? I suppose she is needy enough, poor
old woman, & if you have a chance I should like you to send her things to the
amount of two dollars a month, as I told you, & I will
pay for them—(if you
Evening ½ past 8—Well I will finish my letter
& put it in the box—maybe you will get it to read Sunday—This
afternoon 4 to 6½ I took one of my usual jaunts over in the busiest parts of
Philadelphia—Market and Chestnut Streets—crowded with myriads of people
& vehicles—all seemed to be going as if the devil was after them—the
crowds & rush & excitement seemed to be much greater even than
usual—well I took some three hours of it—then slowly across the river
& home—had my supper, & here I am in perfect quiet up in my room,
finishing my letter—Susan my dear friend I hope this will find you all right
& well again—but if still unwell, try to keep a good heart—