I am not able to flee from the discomforts of winter so well as cranes are, although for foreseeing the future I am quite as clever as a crane.  But as to liberty of life the birds are almost as far ahead of me as they are in the being able to fly.  In the first place I have been detained by certain worldly business; then I have been so wasted by constant and violent attacks of fever that there does seem something thinner even than I was,—I am thinner than ever.  Besides all this, bouts of quartan ague have gone on for more than twenty turns.  Now I do seem to be free from fever, but I am in such a feeble state that I am no stronger than a cobweb.  Hence the shortest journey is too far for me, and every breath of wind is more dangerous to me than big waves to those at sea.  I have no alternative but to hide in my hut and wait for spring, if only I can last out so long, and am not carried off beforehand προδιαρπασθῶμεν with two mss.  προδιαμάρτοιμεν has better authority, but is bad Greek, and makes worse sense. by the internal malady of which I am never rid.  If the Lord saves me with His mighty hand, I shall gladly betake myself to your remote region, and gladly embrace a friend so dear.  Only pray that my life may be ordered as may be best for my soul’s good.