It is difficult for a mortal to avoid the caprice of some power on high, but it is much more difficult to find a defence for a silly slip sent by some such heavenly power. Both of these misfortunes have now happened to me. When I came to you to give you the morning greeting, I ought to have used the usual expression “Joy to you,” but like a golden ass I blundered and said “Health to you,” a pleasant enough greeting, but not suitable—it is not for the morning. As soon as I had said it I was all sixes and sevens. I began to sweat and went pink. Some of the company thought it a slip—naturally enough; others thought that I had become a fool in my old age, or that it was a hangover from yesterday’s drinking. You took it very well, though—not a trace of a smile to mark my slip of the tongue. So I thought it a good idea to write something to comfort myself, so as not to be too upset over my slip, or think it intolerable if I, an old man, had fallen so far from what was proper before so many witnesses. I don’t think an apology was necessary for a tongue that slipped into a wish so pleasant.