Let me open, dear reader, by entreating your pardon. I have neglected this missive greatly in recent days, and while I do regret my delinquency, I am sure that the reasons for it are quite evident. As you have no doubt noted, the adversities in my life have accumulated rather rapidly as of late. Between my railway apprenticeship, the arrival of Ernestine Strothnuttle and a brief but horrific peasant's uprising, I have found myself faced with a veritable gob of hardships. And without a nourishing diet or the companionship of my dear chum Crispin (who has been away in the colonies) to support me, I collapsed under the weight of the chaos.
Yes, even we worldly gentlemen of hearty constitutions can fall prey to mental exhaustion, and it was thus that I found myself whisked off to the sanitarium, that very same place where we visited my Aunt Lavinia only a few weeks prior. And while I cannot say that the sanitarium director at first showed much enthusiasm at my arrival, I was afforded top-notch treatment, and returned home this evening feeling much restored.
Plenty has transpired in my absence, and there is much to be addressed -- not least of which is the latest piece of prevarication that the penny dailies are circulating. But this all must wait until the restoration of my health is complete. Though I have returned home, I am still subject to the sanitarium's strict recovery regimen, and must be off now to take my nightly bran bath.
