Once more I resume my pen. I thought I had taken my last farewell to
you. I never was so very oddly affected: something that seemed totally
to overwhelm my faculties--I don't know how to describe it--I believe I
do amiss in writing so much, and taking too much upon me: but an active
mind, though clouded by bodily illness, cannot be idle.
I'll see if the air, and a discontinued attention, will help me. But, if
it will not, don't be concerned for me, my dear. I shall be happy. Nay,
I am more so already than of late I thought I could ever be in this life.
--Yet how this body clings!--How it encumbers!