ignorant, tardy, and unaccommodating; I have information to gain from men of letters, and they are few, and in general unaccustomed to think much upon the subjects on which I have asked them; so that, though they are kind and even very kind, I hardly get along at all. This disheartens me very much. . . . . For three days I have worked sixteen and eighteen hours a day, without fatigue, in my room and in the public library; and if it depended on nobody but myself,. . . . I could be gone on the 13th.
Yesterday I received, my dearest father, yours of September 30. I cannot tell you what a consolation it was to me to hear that my mother is better.
Lisbon itself looks brighter with my brightened thoughts, and even the sad, rainy weather is less tiresome.
I hope a packet will sail the 16th.
If it does, I shall set off at once.
To Mr. Elisha Ticknor. London, December 2, 1818.
I wrote to you, dearest father and mother, on the 20th of last month, from Lisbon.