‘My dear Mr. Rogers,—I must at last submit to the mortification of sending my excuse to you for to-day, which I have too long delayed, and to which I looked forward with the pleasure anticipated by a long confinement; but since I saw you, I have been quite confined by an unaccountable sickness and fits of nausea, that come on incessantly, and plague both Sir H. H. and myself, as he will tell you. I do not know what my disorder is—I know I may as well die of that as of anything else, but I still hope to have the pleasure of seeing you first.
