Mother and Sisters. Remember me to the Butlers--not forgetting Sarah.1
Your affectionate friend, John Keats
Address: Mr John H. Reynolds ∣ Little Britain ∣ Christs Hospital London.
Postmark: not recorded.
Teignmouth, May 3d.
My dear Reynolds.
What I complain of is that I have been in so an uneasy a state of Mind as not to be fit to write to an invalid. I cannot write to any length under a disguised feeling. I should have loaded you with an addition of gloom, which I am sure you do not want. I am now thank God in a humour to give you a good groats worth--for Tom, after a Night without a Wink of sleep, and overburdened with fever, has got up after a refreshing day sleep and is better than he has been for a long time; and you I trust have been again round the Common without any effect but refreshment.-- As to the Matter I hope I can say with Sir Andrew2"I have matter enough in my head" in your favor And now, in the second place, for I reckon that I have finished my Imprimis, I am glad you blow up the weather all through your letter there is a leaning towards a climate-curse, and you know what a delicate satisfaction there is in having a vexation anathematized: one would think there has been growing up for these last four thousand years, a grandchild Scion of the old forbidden tree, and that some modern Eve had just violated it; and that there was come with double charge
"Notus and Afer, black with thunderous clouds From Sierraleona.'3