I have been for the last week meditating to write you a line. It was from a purer motive than vanity that I thought you would excuse my troubling you. It was because I knew that your heart, benevolent to all, but to me most singularly and affectionately good and kind, would like to hear of my goings on. Your most obliging Note by Miss Haughton gratified me exceedingly. I was mortified to be able to see that lady, only for a few minutes, but she very kindly promised to make me amends by a longer and quieter visit. Pray remind her that she is pledged to do me that favour, either of a morning or to tea.

As to myself I have been, and am, far better than I could reasonably expect, considering that Summer has put off his /long/ expected visit sine die. I have not been able to profit by your permission to go down stairs once, for the Solstice went as it came wet and comfortless, and as I am considerably hoarse every Morning I thought I had better prefer my health to my pleasure. My Stomach is much improved, and the little pain on the side is kept in order by a blue Pill once, and sometimes twice a week. If I am much hurried in the day by company, (which I must confess sometimes happens) I pay for it in the night, not by a head ach, but by a vehement and tumultuous pulsation which I lose gradually on the following day. I will however endeavour to be wiser, that is more peremptory.

I had the pleasure to entertain my two favourite Bishops of Gloucester and S^t. Davids last week. They are both working themselves to death. The Bills of mortality are not generally swelled by Episcopal hard labour, tis not an Epidemic