Wheatland, November 14, 1867.
My Dear Sir:—
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I know how cordially welcome I would be at your house, but I fear I shall not be able to pay you a visit for months to come. Like all old men, I feel a very strong reluctance to leave home. The idea of becoming dangerously ill away from home deters me from going abroad. Although relieved from acute pain in my left hand and arm, yet my hand is still so weak and swollen that I cannot carve, and it is but a few days since I ceased to have the meat on my own plate cut up for me. And to add to all this, my left eye is now as black as if I had been fighting with shillelahs at Donnybrook Fair. On Saturday last, supposing that I was at the head of the steps on the front porch, I took a step forward as if on the level, and fell with my whole weight on the floor, striking my head against one of the posts. Thanks to the thickness and strength of my skull, it was not broken, and the only bad consequence from it is a very black eye. How soon this will disappear I know not. I sincerely and devoutly thank God it is no worse. During all this time, the Misses Pleasonton have been a great comfort to me, and I am truly sorry they will leave me on Tuesday next. I do not fear, however, that I shall be miserable without them. I have had a good deal of transient company this fall. But what a long rigmarole I have written.
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I rejoice to learn that the baby is thriving so finely. Please to remember me kindly to Miss Snyder, and with my best love to Harriet,
I remain, your friend,