[Letter written from College Street, Winchester, on 28th or 29th May, believed to be addressed to Frances Tilson]
. . . My attendant is encouraging, and talks of making me quite well. I live chiefly on the sofa, but am allowed to walk from one room to the other. I have been out once in a sedan-chair, and am to repeat it, and be promoted to a wheel-chair as the weather serves. On this subject I will only say further that my dearest sister, my tender, watchful, indefatigable nurse, has not been made ill by her exertions. As to what I owe to her, and to the anxious affection of all my beloved family on this occasion, I can only cry over it, and pray to God to bless them more and more.
[She next touches with just and gentle animadversion on a subject of domestic disappointment. Of this the particulars do not concern the public. Yet in justice to her characteristic sweetness and resignation, the concluding observation of our authoress thereon must not be suppressed.]
. . . But I am getting too near complaint. It has been the appointment of God, however secondary causes may have operated. . .
[The following and final extract will prove the facility with which she could correct every impatient thought, and turn from complaint to cheerfulness.]
You will find Captain _____ a very respectable, well-meaning man, without much manner, his wife and sister all good humour and obligingness, and I hope (since the fashion allows it) with rather longer petticoats than last year.
QuinnTessence 