I have been waiting day after day, my Dear Aunt, in the hope of having something pleasant to communicate to you, but I do very much fear I shall now have nothing, if ever, to say about our Dear Eliza but will give you pain. I sat down to write to you without knowing what to say. I have been so in the habit of dissembling lately that I can hardly throw it off, for when I write my Father and Mother everything is so glossed over, ’tis impossible to come at the truth. You know not how I am affected, my Dear Aunt. I fear I am doing wrong in deceiving them, for it is my firm opinion she never will be well. Do advise me, tell me what I ought to do. I think to you I may say the truth—I think she has been growing sicker every hour since she left New York. Her voyage had a singular effect upon her: she suffered but little from seasickness, but every bad symptom she had before seemed increased; she coughed a great deal and very hard, her fever and night sweats were excessive. You may imagine she was much weakened; but I hoped this was a temporary thing, and a few days of quiet and of rest would restore her; but instead of that, directly after our arrival a sort of intermittent fever took place, she had a regular chill and fever every day, she lost her strength very much, no appetite at all. This last four or five days her disorder wears another appearance. ’Tis now Thursday. On Sunday Dr. Irvine ordered her to take Quashy in order to prevent a chill; she took it according to his direction—it brought on her fever at 1 o’clock in the morning, and it never left her till 12 o’clock at night, it absolutely raged all day. Since then she has had no night sweats, no chill, but her cough and fever very much increased. Her nerves are extremely disordered; such a tremor that to-day she cannot feed herself at all. She is so weak and exhausted that she cannot walk alone. ’Tis now 11 o’clock—I am sitting by her side, and she is still coughing and in such a hot fever she can bear nothing to touch her. I have not asked her Physician’s opinion concerning her; ’tis unnecessary I feel, I know what it must be. Yet is it not strange she keeps up her spirits? She is looking forward with the greatest anxiety to warm weather. God grant it may not be too late! Dr. Irvine was the Physician Mrs. Hovey recommended; he is indisposed and has left his patients in the care of Dr. Barrow. The exchange has pleased us very much, for Dr. Barrow is considered quite as skilful, and is extremely kind and fatherly in his manners, indeed he reminds us so strongly of our Dear Father that we already love him very much. February 3.