She has had no pain, but only suffers from weakness. We shall go in three or four days to Flushing, which is a fine, bracing air, and stay there a few days till Eliza is smart enough to travel 10 miles a day. I place full confidence in this journey; I am sure that the change of air and scene, and more than all, the prospect of home, will render it truly beneficial. We are at Mr. Bowne’s mother’s, for we have shut our house up. She is a fine old lady, and Caroline is perfectly amiable and as attentive as possible. I am very glad we are here and in the neighborhood of Mrs. Bogert, for she is all goodness. I grow more and more anxious every hour to get home. The city is quite deserted, though it never was more healthy. There are as few deaths as there were in the winter. There has been two weeks of _very cool_ weather. I go wandering about and see scarcely a face I know. I used to complain last winter of our large acquaintance, and having the house full of company, but now I exclaim out half a dozen times a day that “I wished I could see some one I knew.” There are gentlemen enough, but no ladies. Uncle and Aunt, I suppose, have nearly set out for Scarborough. I wish we were to be there whilst they are with you. You can have no idea how very anxious I am to return. Was I not so much occupied I should be positively _homesick_, but I have no time to _think_ but upon one subject. Kiss the dear children for us _all_, for we are equally anxious to see you. Remember me very affectionately to Sister Boyd and to the children. Before I leave here I shall be in need of a little money. I won’t seal my letter to-night, but will write you how she is to-morrow. July 31. I did not finish my letter this morning because Eliza did not feel as well as usual, but this afternoon she is better. She is in charming spirits and so very well that we are delighted. She gives her best love to you; says _she_ don’t feel _at all_ obliged to you for your wishes, and is determined not to join with you. The old lady desires to be remembered, and says,—“If thee was here, thee could do no more for thy child than we have.” Indeed she is the most tender, affectionate of women. My best love to my Father. We are in the full of seeing you soon. I shall not make it long before I write again. Yours affectionately, O. SOUTHGATE. June 3, 1805. Dear Octavia: