Dear Fred,

I am writing you today only these few lines, since the left arm is under bandage and poultices, and therefore not under my command. The affair was an abscess connected with the glands. Along with that a few other little things that were set right yesterday by lancing. Today everything in best progress, the Dr. was very satisfied. The port that arrived yesterday does me great service.

You don’t imagine, do you, that I have learnt as much Russian in a few weeks as — I won’t say as you have forgotten, but as would remain to you if you had forgotten three times more. I am still but a beginner.

So Herzen is dead. Just about when I had finished with “Тюрьма etc.” All sorts of things have been happening in the “International”, especially with regard to Bakunin’s intrigues. But too long to write about now.

The Paris movements are amusing. As Olivier is a free trader too, he is naturally the man after the English philistine’s heart, who constantly forgets that what suits him must prima facie be disgusting to French Frenchmen.

My compliments to Mrs. Lizzy and all of them.

Your Mohr.

What do you say then to the smart-aleckery in the “Zukunft”, by which it seeks to wriggle out of the purely political camp! A propos. I still have a little note for you from Liebknecht, which arrived during your absence from England. However, I cannot look for it now among a jumble of papers. For next time.