CHAWTON, Wednesday (May 29).
IT was a mistake of mine, my dear Cassandra, to talk of a tenth child at
Hamstall. I had forgot there were but eight already.
Your inquiry after my uncle and aunt were most happily timed, for the
very same post brought an account of them. They are again at Gloucester
House enjoying fresh air, which they seem to have felt the want of in
Bath, and are tolerably well, but not more than tolerable. My aunt does
not enter into particulars, but she does not write in spirits, and we
imagine that she has never entirely got the better of her disorder in
the winter. Mrs. Welby takes her out airing in her barouche, which gives
her a headache,--a comfortable proof, I suppose, of the uselessness of
the new carriage when they have got it.
You certainly must have heard before I can tell you that Col. Orde has
married our cousin Margt. Beckford, the Marchess. of Douglas's sister.
The papers say that her father disinherits her, but I think too well of
an Orde to suppose that she has not a handsome independence of her own.
[Illustration: _Chawton Cottage, from the Garden_