University of Virginia Library

LETTER CXXIX.

It is not my fault, but my misfortune, my dear Theodore,
that you have not heard from me since I left Baltimore. I
wrote to you from Philadelphia, and made express mention
of your friends there, and of their particular inquiries after
you. Mrs. Clay, Mr. and Mrs. Croskey, Dr. Chapman;
Mr. Parish, too, was pointed in his questions. As soon as
I had seen Tudor, I wrote to you concerning him, and myself,
also; for, on returning from Morrisania on Sunday the
24th of October, the driver overturned me in Cortlandt
Street, by driving over a pile of stones, &c., before a new
house, unfinished, which nuissance extended more than half
way across a narrow street. I am very seriously injured.
The patella is, in itself, unhurt—but the ligaments are very
much wrenched, so that a tight bandage alone enables me to
hobble from one room to another, with the help of a stick.
I have written every week since. Your letters of the 6th
and 16th of October, and 7th of November, came to hand:
the last this day. But one from Mr. R. K. Jones, of the 6th
of November, did not reach me until yesterday; and another
from Tudor, written at Philadelphia on the 2nd, is entirely
lost. Others broken open, (one from Mr. Quincy,) and delayed
intolerably. Nay, I am subject to other ill treatment

into the bargain, for insisting that my letters shall be delivered
to my servant, and to him only.

I hope to be able to bear the motion of a carriage, by the
last of this week. I shall then go on to Philadelphia, and
hope to see you by the first week of next month. Assuredly,
(God willing,) before Christmas. I am a poor miserable
cripple, and you are my only support. God bless you, my
son.