fferent subjects with my newly acquired friend, which I
had refrained from doing before we had so cordially shaken hands as
comrades. Now, I must wait patiently. Strange that the solitude which
formerly seemed to me as life itself becomes only the resort of
necessity now that I have associated with a genial and intellectual
mind. I must content myself with my books and music. Every morning he
sends his servant to enquire how I feel. The ride seems to have done
him good, I still feel it in my limbs. I will write home and tell my
father of my new friend; I know it will please him.

The 11th November.

Now, at last, the southern winter has commenced its mild reign, and
people say that this will continue. Yesterday I again remained out of
doors from two o'clock till sunset with Morrik on the Wassermauer, not
always conversing, as he in compliance with my request brought a book
with him. The poems of Edgar Allen Poe, he showed them to me with a
smile, saying that these were the true expositors of his own feelings
before his regeneration, as he called it. I have taken the book away
with me and have lent him instead "The wisdom of the Brahmins" by my
dear Rueckert, of which, however, one can only take in finger-tips at a
time, but every pinch of this snuff, to continue the clumsy simile,
freshens the mind and dispels congestions.

"You really have given me a spiritual medicine," Morrik jestingly said,
"I must beg of you to go on prescribing for me, for that desperate
American had quite unsettled me."

He told me that people had talked a great deal about our excursion to
Schoenna, and looked at me to see if that annoyed me. "Do not let us
please them by noticing it," I answered, "just as we enjoyed the
sunshine without allowing the gnats and flies that buzzed about us, to
spoil our pleasure." We have tacitly agreed never to talk about our
illness, as most people here do, and either make themselves unhappy by
it or find consolation in it, according to the warmth or coldness of
their hearts. But I often perceive that he fancies erroneously that my
health is improving, instead of which I distinctly feel the contrary.
The momentary relief which I experience is just what characterises the
approaching end in this disease. I fancy that I breathe more easily and
move with less effort. I also eat more and sleep well, probably owing
to exhaustion, which increases, though I have the ill