They have been all hunting after the Llanerch MS. of _Bonedd_, even Dr. Thomas Williams, and the Anglesea Man, as well as Thomas Wynne, and Thomas ab Llewelyn, &c., and have stumbled in the reading of it, as now plainly appears to me; and what, if I tell you, that you and I also have slipped in one place: I am sure we have. I am tired now, and have no more to say, but I cough a little less than I did a week ago; and am likely to live till winter at least, unless some unforeseen accident happens. It will be a hard battle if I hold out all the winter. You are now in your bloom of body and spirit; do not lose a moment; you will be sorry if you do. God be with you, and keep you. I am yours sincerely, LEWIS MORRIS. _Penbryn_, _July_ 4, 1760. * * * * * The same to the same. DEAR SIR, It is a long while since I heard from you, and really I don’t know when; for my long and dangerous illness has eradicated all former transactions out of my memory, so that I have but a very faint idea of my former letters sent or received. From the beginning of November to this time, I have been struggling with death at his door; and in the very height of my fever, an accident by fire had likely to have destroyed me and mine. Such shocks are terrible, and enough to deface all correspondence. I am now beginning to be able to sit down to write a little, and but very little; for I am severely troubled with an asthma, which I suppose will finish me one day or other. _Chwilio_, _chwilio a ffaelio cael eich llythyr diwaethaf mewn modd yn y byd_. At the time when a pleuretic fever knocked me down, I was fitting up a new closet for my books and papers, and ever since everything has been in confusion, so that I am as long finding out a book or paper, as if I was in Mostyn Library.