LETTER LIII
June 29.
I wrote to you by the laſt poſt, to inform you of my arrival; and I believe 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 here are 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 alone 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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LETTER LIV
July 1.