Nothing? All was blank for more than five weeks. When consciousness
came back to me I found myself in bed in my own old room, in the house
on Gerrard Street, and Alice and Dr. Marsden were standing by my
bedside.

No need to tell how my hair had been removed, nor about the bags of ice
that had been applied to my head. No need to linger over any details of
the "pitiless fever that burned in my brain." No need, either, to
linger over my progress back to convalescence, and thence to complete
recovery. In a week from the time I have mentioned, I was permitted to
sit up in bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. My impatience would
brook no further delay, and I was allowed to ask questions about what
had happened in the interval which had elapsed since my over wrought
nerves gave way under the prolonged strain upon them. First, Junius
Gridley's letter in reply to Dr. Marsden was placed in my hands. I have
it still in my possession, and I transcribe the following copy from the
original now lying before me:--


"BOSTON, Dec. 22nd, 1861.

"DR. MARSDEN:

"In reply to your letter, which has just been received, I have to say
that Mr. Furlong and myself became acquainted for the first time during
our recent passage from Liverpool to Boston, in the _Persia_,
which arrived here Monday last. Mr. Furlong accompanied me home, and
remained until Tuesday morning, when I took him to see the Public
Library, the State House, the Athenaeum, Faneuil Hall, and other points
of interest. We casually dropped into the post-office, and he remarked