PARIS, _November 2, 1861_.
My eyes are so bad that I did not recognise you at once the other day.
Why do you come into my quarters without forewarning me? The person who
was with me asked who the lady was with such beautiful eyes.
I spend all my time working like a negro slave for my master, whom I
shall go to see in a week. The prospect of eight days in knee-breeches
is somewhat terrifying. I should prefer to spend them out in the
sunshine, and I begin to long for that time. On the other hand, the
session with which we are threatened is maddening to me. I can not
understand why Government business is not transacted in summer....
I have for you a book which is not altogether stupid. My memory is
failing, and I have had a volume bound, when I already had a copy. You
see what you will gain by it.
I have recovered almost entirely from my stiff neck, but for several
nights I have been up so late that I am extremely nervous and exhausted.
When we meet we will converse on metaphysics. ‘Tis a subject for which I
cherish a great fondness because it is inexhaustible. Good-bye, dear
friend.