March 24, 1852.

... I have all sorts of annoyances, besides a great deal of work on hand. In short, I have undertaken, impulsively, a piece of chivalrous work, and you know that one should guard against yielding to impulses. I sometimes turn over a new leaf. The substance of the matter is that after reading the articles written for the defence of Libri, his innocence has been completely demonstrated to me, and I am now writing for the Revue a long dissertation concerning his trial, including all the infamous details connected with it. Pity me; one gains nothing from such work but vituperation; but there are times when one is so shocked by injustice that he makes a fool of himself.

When are we to visit the Museum? I am grieved to learn of the death of some one whom you loved; but this is one more reason for us to meet often, and to prove whether a friendship like ours is a balm for sorrow. I agree with you in thinking that life is a foolish thing, but we must not make it worse than it is. After all, it contains some moments of happiness, and the satisfaction we enjoy in the remembrance of these exceeds the dejection we feel in the recollection of our moments of unhappiness. I experience more pleasure in recalling our friendly talks than I have of sorrow in thinking of our quarrels. We should make ample provision for happy recollections.