Monday.
May 12, 1845.
My dear, own friend, I am quite well now, or next to it – – but this is how it was, – – I have gone out a great deal of late, and my head took to ringing such a literal alarum that I wondered what was to come of it; and at last, a few evenings ago, as I was dressing for a dinner somewhere, I got really bad of a sudden, and kept at home to my friend’s heartrending disappointment. Continue reading “#23”