You know that I am practically in prison here. I am fairly successful in enforcing patience and resignation upon myself, considering what attractive prospects lie just without the walls, but I am still a reasoning being and do not exclude myself from thinking of the concern which my disappointments must bring to you. I am only to have you as well informed as I can. Every day I look for a decided improvement and thus far every day, I am disappointed. I believe that Dr Rainer, my prison keeper, is the very best man in the world to handle me, and he is most assiduous—is doing absolutely his very best—to set me free. He is disappointed from day to day, as I am. He knows the difficulty, however, and the need of patience and is not discouraged. He was a few years ago in a similar condition himself—worse indeed, except that he was younger. He was wholly without sleep for a week. He says with confidence, after repeated examinations, of all my anatomy, that I have no organic trouble and that I may reasonably expect under favorable circumstances to keep at work for several years to come. He regards my present trouble (apparently) but as a variation in form of the troubles which led me to come abroad. He thinks that my course has not been unwise; that it would probably have been best for me to take more rest than nature prompted; that it is a peculiarity of my case that over-exertion does not produce the sensation of fatigue. He fully expects that I shall be set up again. He hints, in answer to my suggestions, that it may be best before I am set entirely free, to send me for a short time to one of several establishments (water cures or sanitariums) as a convalescent hospital; the Malvern Hills, or to one which he thinks well of near Hampton Court. I am not falling back at all; am apparently gaining a little; have at no time been much cast down or lost cheerfulness, and my guess, today, is that he will let me out next week; out that is to say, as a ticket-of-leave man. (He takes me out for a walk on the heath, or lets me have a drive in one of the nearer parks, evy day).

[534]

Phil comes to me nearly evy day, and appears to me to be occupying himself instructively and educationally, as he might, within a few hours journey, of London, for six months.

Of course, my difficulty is that I cannot calculate even a week ahead with confidence. Even if the doctor should send me to one of his convalescent hospitals, however, I think that he would agree that I shall be in a condition within three weeks to travel much as I did during our first fortnight in England. He would advise me to do so as the best means of establishing convalescence, for two or three weeks before leaving for home.

I have written simply to give you the best knowledge I can of the situation. This is the first writing I have done since I last wrote John. You will understand that I was not as much advanced then, as I thought & represented. Except Waterer and Miss Wilkinson, who came here to see me, I have met no one whom I wanted to (professionally). I have had invitations to meet several but have not dared to accept them. But I expect to do better yet. Let me know if I can do anything for Chicago. I see Adlumia cirhosa, advertised as exceedingly attractive creeper at 3 for 1/.

I should like the briefest reference to your progress not only at Chicago, but at Louisville, Marquette, Reid’s, Twombly and Newport. You see I am not expecting to sail before I hear from you again.

Faithfully,