will set about it soon, though with terrible reluctance, such as I
never felt before.... I am most grateful to you for protecting me
from that visitation of the elephant and his cub. If you happen to
see Mr. ---- of L----, a young man who was here last summer, pray
tell him anything that your conscience will let you, to induce him
to spare me another visit, which I know he intended. I really am not
well and cannot be disturbed by strangers without more suffering
than it is worth while to endure. I thank Mrs. P---- and yourself
for your kind hospitality, past and prospective. I never come to see
you without feeling the better for it, but I must not test so
precious a remedy too often."

The new year found him incapacitated from writing much on the Romance.
On the 17th of January, 1864, he says:--

"I am not quite up to writing yet, but shall make an effort as soon
as I see any hope of success. You ought to be thankful that (like
most other broken-down authors) I do not pester you with decrepit
pages, and insist upon your accepting them as full of the old spirit
and vigor. That trouble, perhaps, still awaits you, after I shall
have reached a further stage of decay. Seriously, my mind has, for
the present, lost its temper and its fine edge, and I have an
instinct that I had better keep quiet. Perhaps I shall have a new
spirit of vigor, if I wait quietly for it; perhaps not."

The end of February found him in a mood which is best indicated in this
letter, which he addressed to me on the 25th of the month:--

"I hardly know what to say to the public about this abortive
Romance, though I know pretty well what the case will be. I shall