I mutely recall my parted friends by correspondence.

I resemble that class of people of whom Seneca speaks, who seize life in detail, and not by the gross.

The moment I feel the approach of summer, I take a country-house a league distant from town, where the air is extremely pure.

In such a place I am at present, and here I lead my wonted life, more free than ever from the wearisomeness of the city.

I have abundance of everything; the peasants vie with each other in bringing me fruit, fish, ducks, and all sorts of game.