* * * * * June 27. Ten in the morning, with my Snuff open at the Top of this sheet,—& your gentle sweet face opposite to mine, & saying “what I write will be cordially read”—possibly you may be precisely engaged at this very hour, the same way—and telling me some interesting Story ab^t. y^r. health, y^r. sufferings—y^r. heart aches—and other Sensations w^{ch}. friendship—absence & uncertainty create within you. for my own part, my dear Eliza, I am a prey to every thing in its turn—& was it not for that sweet clew of hope w^{ch}. is perpetual opening me a way which is to lead me to thee thro’ all this Labyrinth—was it not for this, my Eliza! how could I find rest for this bewilderd heart of mine?—I sh^d. wait for you till September came—& if you did not arrive with it—sh^d. sicken & die—but I will live for thee—so count me Immortal—3 India Men arrived within ten days—will none of ’em bring me Tidings of You?—but I am foolish—but ever thine—my dear, dear Bramine. * * * * * June 28. O what a tormenting night have my dreams led me ab^t. You Eliza—M^{rs}. Draper a Widow!—with a hand at Liberty to give!—and gave it to another!—She told me—I must acquiesce—it could not be otherwise. Acquiese! cried I, waking in agonies—God be prais’d cried I—’tis a dream—fell asleep after—dreamd You was married to the Captain of the Ship—I waked in a fever—but ’twas the Fever in my blood which brought on this painful chain of Ideas—for I am ill to day—& for want of more cheary Ideas, I torment my Eliza with these—whose Sensibility will suffer, if Yorick could dream but of her Infidelity! & I suffer Eliza in my turn, & think my self at pres^t. little better than an old woman or a Dreamer of Dreams in the Scripture Language—I am going to ride myself into better health & better fancies with Hall—whose Castle lying near the Sea—We have a Beach as even as a mirrour of 5 miles in Length before it, where we daily run races in our Chaises; with one wheel in the Sea, & the other in the Sand—O Eliza, w^{th}. w^t. fresh ardour & impatience when I’m viewing the element, do I sigh for thy return—But I need no _memento’s_ of my Destitution & misery for want of thee—I carry them ab^t. me,—& shall not lay them down—(for I worship & I do Idolize these tender sorrows) till I meet thee upon the Beech & present the handkerchiefs staind with blood w^{ch}. broke out from my heart upon y^r. departure—This token of what I felt at that Crisis, Eliza, shall never, never be wash’d out. Adieu my dear Wife—you are still mine—notwithstanding all the Dreams & Dreamers in the World.—M^r. Lascells dined w^{th}. us—Mem^d. I have to tell you a Conversation—I will not write it— * * * * *