164 



I have passed but a melancholy, lonely winter, 

 having been much indisposed since the beginning 

 of November. It is not being alone that is dis- 

 tressing: where one can take a book, and likes 

 reading, amusement and enjoyment run hand in 

 hand ; but a heavy sickness renders me incapable 

 of enjoyment : it has been a labour and an exertion 

 at different times to write my name. 



It gave me great comfort to find you were well ; 

 but though I used to receive or answer a letter from 

 you with delight, I this time find myself disabled. 

 I am, however, growing better, and look forward to 

 the hopes of seeing you in London, where I scheme 

 to be the latter end of next month. It is to be re- 

 gretted by me that fortune had not placed me with- 

 in the reach of your society, and some others in 

 England : I should have enjoyed much more con- 

 stant friendship and attention than here ; this place 

 is too dissipated, and there are few whose tastes 

 agree with mine in preferring quiet social inter- 

 course. 



I have endured a long truce with botany, but 

 must lose no time in refreshing my memory, or 

 shall forget the very elements. I went to our great 

 garden two days ago, — the first visit since last June. 

 It made no great appearance, and has suffered much 

 from the uncommon severity of the weather : though 

 it is almost ten times as large as the garden at Liver- 

 pool, and there is expense to the greatest prodigality, 

 I doubt whether it be half as curious. There is a 

 fine specimen of the New Norfolk Pine, but which 

 will soon be too high for the green-house ; a very 



