All I can say is, that I did my best, never writing but when the
fit took me, and never delivering anything to my amanuensis but what I
was perfectly satisfied with. You ask me my opinion of the review in the
_Quarterly_. Very good, very clever, very neatly done. Only one fault to
find--too laudatory. I am by no means the person which the reviewer had
the kindness to represent me. I hope you are getting on well as to
health; strange weather this, very unwholesome, I believe, both for man
and beast: several people dead, and great mortality amongst the cattle.
Am tolerably well myself, but get but little rest--disagreeable
dreams--digestion not quite so good as I could wish; been on the water
system--won't do; have left it off, and am now taking lessons in
singing. I hope to be in London towards the end of next month, and
reckon much upon the pleasure of seeing you. On Monday I shall mount my
horse and ride into Norwich to pay a visit to a few old friends.
Yesterday the son of our excellent Dawson Turner rode over to see me;
they are all well, it seems. Our friend Joseph Gurney, however, seems to
be in a strange way--diabetes, I hear.
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