esented a most horrible spectacle."[278]

Beside Springfield, he had engagements at Portland, New Bedford, and
other places in Massachusetts, before the Boston farewells began; and
there wanted but two days to bring him to that time, when he thus
described to his daughter the labour which was to occupy them. His
letter was from Portland on the 29th of March, and it will be observed
that he no longer compromises or glozes over what he was and had been
suffering. During his terrible travel to Albany his cough had somewhat
spared him, but the old illness had broken out in his foot; and, though
he persisted in ascribing it to the former supposed origin ("having been
lately again wet, from walking in melted snow, which I suppose to be the
occasion of its swelling in the old way"), it troubled him sorely,
extended now at intervals to the right foot also, and lamed him for all
the time he remained in the States. "I should have written to you by the
last mail, but I really was too unwell to do it. The writing day was
last Friday, when I ought to have left Boston for New Bedford (55 miles)
before eleven in the morning. But I was so exhausted that I could not be
got up, and had to take my chance of an evening train's producing me in
time to read--which it just did. With the return of snow, nine days ago,
my cough became as bad as ever. I have coughed every morning from two or
three till five or six, and have been absolutely sleepless. I have had
no appetite besides, and no taste.[279] Last night here, I took some
laudanum; and it is the only thing that has done me good, though it made
me sick this morning. But the life, in this climate, is so very hard!
When I did manage to get to New Bedford, I read with my utmost force and
vigour. Next morning, well or ill, I must turn out at seven, to get
back to Boston on my way here. I dined at Boston at three, and at five
had to come on here (a hundred and thirty miles or so) for to-morrow
night: there being no Sunday train. To-morrow night I read here in a
very large place; and Tuesday morning at six I must again start, to get
back to Boston once more. But after to-morrow night I have only the
farewells, thank God! Even as it is, however, I have had to write to
Dolby (who is in New York) to see my doctor there, and ask him to send
me some composing medicine that I can take at night, inasmuch as without
sleep I cannot get through. However sympathetic and devoted the people
are about one, the