June 29.
I wrote to you by the last post, to inform you of my arrival; and I
alluded to the extreme fatigue I endured on ship-board, owing to ——’s
illness, and the roughness of the weather—I likewise mentioned to you my
fall, the effects of which I still feel, though I do not think it will
have any serious consequences.
—— —— will go with me, if I find it necessary to go to ——. The inns are
here so bad, I was forced to accept of an apartment in his house. I am
overwhelmed with civilities on all sides, and fatigued with the
endeavours to amuse me, from which I cannot escape.
My friend—my friend, I am not well—a deadly weight of sorrow lies
heavily on my heart. I am again tossed on the troubled billows of life;
and obliged to cope with difficulties, without being buoyed up by the
hopes that render them bearable. “How flat, dull, and unprofitable,”
appears to me all the bustle into which I see people here so eagerly
enter! I long every night to go to bed, to hide my melancholy face in my
pillow; but there is a canker-worm in my bosom that never sleeps.
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