lost--lost, I mean, as to literary acquirements. From your companions,
I presume, little is to be gained save the pastime of a social hour.
Yet time goes on, and you have much to do.

To the execution of any project, however, health is a sine qua non.
Whether you can ever enjoy it in Charleston or on Sullivan's Island
has become a problem in my mind. I was quite shocked with your wan
appearance when I first met you last spring. How different from that
which you took hence the fall preceding. With every advantage
attainable in your climate, you have scarcely been free from fever
during the season. This cannot fail to debilitate both mind and body.
If these hazards are to be annually encountered with similar effects,
and worse may be apprehended, it is a price far beyond the value of
any benefits which Charleston can offer. The _mountains_, a more
_Northern latitude_, or the _grave_, must be your refuge. Pray think
of these things. If I should not go to South Carolina this fall, nor
you come hither, let us meet in Washington next winter. After the
rising of your legislature, you may find time for that journey. But I
should prefer to see you here immediately after your election, if
there be time for your return before the session of the legislature.
Your health must require this change. _Here_ you may freeze out all
your "miasmata" and surplus bile in ten days, and go to Columbia with
nerves well strung and blood well purified.

My solicitude for your frequent appearance in courts is _no way_
diminished. The applause which I heard bestowed upon you sunk into my
heart. I could distinguish that which you merited from the fulsome
eulogy which was uttered through politeness. Your talent for writing
is enviable, and, with cultivation, will be unrivalled (nothing
without cultivation, remember). No one wishes so ardently as I do, not