Dear to the Muse--thrice dear to Nationality--to the whole human
race--precious to this Union--precious to Democracy--unspeakably and
forever precious--their first great Martyr Chief.
TWO LETTERS
I
TO -- -- -- LONDON, ENGLAND
_Camden, N.J., U.S. America, March 17th, 1876._ DEAR FRIEND:--Yours of
the 28th Feb. receiv'd, and indeed welcom'd. I am jogging along still
about the same in physical condition--still certainly no worse, and I
sometimes lately suspect rather better, or at any rate more adjusted
to the situation. Even begin to think of making some move, some change
of base, &c.: the doctors have been advising it for over two years,
but I haven't felt to do it yet. My paralysis does not lift--I cannot
walk any distance--I still have this baffling, obstinate, apparently
chronic affection of the stomachic apparatus and liver: yet I get out
of doors a little every day--write and read in moderation--appetite
sufficiently good--(eat only very plain food, but always did
that)--digestion tolerable--spirits unflagging. I have told you most
of this before, but suppose you might like to know it all again, up to
date. Of course, and pretty darkly coloring the whole, are bad spells,
prostrations, some pretty grave ones, intervals--and I have resign'd
myself to the certainty of permanent incapacitation from solid work:
but things may continue at least in this half-and-half way for months,
even years.
My books are out, the new edition; a set of which, immediately on
receiving your letter of 28th, I have sent you, (by mail, March 15,)
and I suppose you have before this receiv'd them.
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