Leigh Hunt letter to Marianne Kent Hunt, April 26, 1803

              Trin[ity] Coll[ege] Oxon[ia] Tuesday. Apr. 26 [1803] 
My dearest Marian, 
I am writing to you with a hand full of blisters, a body full of pain, and a head full of confusion.  Yesterday evening Papendieck, another gentleman, and myself hired three skiffs, and rode up the Isis for about a mile and a half to a village called Iffley to drink tea; after a game at quoits, which I never played before in my life, and a very comfortable dish of strong tea, we set out at past eight for Oxford; the moon was out, but, being early in it's increase, lent not a single ray of light; after a few minutes' rowing the cold wind abated, and I grew so intolerably hot with my exercise that I very foolishly pulled off my coat and waistcoat, and exposed my bosom to the night air; the consequence of which was that I caught a villainous cold, and /I/ am at present very ill at your service; my knees and sides are every minute assaulted by a tormenting cramp, and I have eaten neither at breakfast, dinner, or tea; your letter I received this morning and, I assure you, grew ten times better on it's perusal:  how slight a proof of affection will make some minds happy! Ever since I rose out of bed, which I did at twelve o'clock, I have been lying on three soft chairs very restless and in great pain, and if it had not been for your letter I do not know what I should have done with myself, for I have all day been in a humour to find fault with every thing and with every body.  If I do not get better in a day or two, I must make the best of my way to Somers' Town the latter end of this week: for sleeping at an inn is the worst thing in the world when a person is ill; one is surrounded with strange faces, and waited upon by those whose service is uneasy and mercenary, and who, when they have gotten your money, would as soon see you dead as alive.  I flatter myself