Dear friend - To reproach my own Foot inbehalf of your's, is involuntary,and finding myself, no solacein "whom he lovethhe chasteneth"your Valor astoundsme - It was only a small Wasp,said the FrenchPhysician, repairingthe sting, butthe strength to perish is sometimes withheld -though whobut you couldtell a Foot. Take all awayfrom me, but leaveme EcstasyAnd I am richerthen, than allmy Fellow men -Is it becoming me to dwell sowealthilyWhen at my veryDoor are thosepossessing more,In abject poverty? That you compass"Japan" before you you breakfast, notin the least sur-prises me, clogged only with Music,like the Wheels of Birds - Thank you forhoping I am well -Who could be ill in March,that Month ofproclamation?Sleigh Bells andJays contendin my Matinee,and the North surrenders, insteadof the South, a reverse of Bugles - Pity me, however,I have finishedRamona - Would that likeShakespeare, itwere just published!Knew I how topray, to intercedefor your Footwere intuitive - butI am but aPagan - Of God we askone favor,That we maybe forgiven -