LETTER LII
June 27, Saturday.
I arrived in ——— this afternoon, after vainly attempting to land at ——. I have now but a moment, before the poſt goes out, to inform you we have got here; though not without conſiderable difficulty, for we were ſet aſhore in a boat above twenty miles below.
What I ſuffered in the veſſel I will not now deſcant upon—nor mention the pleaſure I received from the ſight of the rocky coaſt.—This morning however, walking to join the carriage that was to tranſport us to this place, I fell, without any previous warning, ſenſeleſs on the rocks—and how I eſcaped with life I can ſcarcely gueſs. I was in a ſtupour for a quarter of an hour; the ſuffuſion of blood at laſt reſtored me to my ſenſes—the contuſion is great, and my brain confuſed. The child is well.
Twenty miles ride in the rain, after my accident, has ſufficiently deranged me—and here I could not get a fire to warm me, or any thing warm to eat; the inns are mere ſtables—I muſt nevertheleſs go to bed. For God's ſake, let me hear from you immediately, my friend! I am not well and yet you ſee I cannot die.
Yours ſincerely
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