Poor Eliza had a most distressing night last night. She coughed so long that she was entirely exhausted; her fever was very high, and she has scarcely spoken a loud word to-day. Her nerves are in a dreadful state. I inquired of Dr. Barrow what he thought of her situation; he says he can say nothing encouraging. He said the disorder had taken great hold upon her, and had shattered her nerves in a terrible manner. He very much fears a nervous fever,—that her pulse was very bad, as nearly as he could count up to 150. Is it not very evident from his being so candid, my Dear Aunt, that he has but little or no hope of her recovery? And yet so strongly do I sympathize in every feeling of hers, that seeing her easier and more comfortable this evening has renewed my hopes and put me quite in spirits. She has been much better this afternoon and evening, less fever, less tremor upon her nerves, and since she has been in bed has had no bad coughing spell. The mail went to the Northward to-day. I have so little time to write that I have missed it. I will let you know to-morrow how she is, and the next day is post-day again. I know what a kind interest you and my uncle take in our dear Eliza, and I know I cannot be too minute. Our friends here are kinder than I can express to you. It seems sometimes as though we were among our own relations. They think of every little thing for Eliza’s comfort and convenience that I could myself. Monday, February 6. This morning Eliza was better, my Dear Aunt, than she has been for a week past. Her voice has returned and she appears stronger in every respect. Yesterday and last night she had a little fever, this morning is delightful and she is going to ride. You shall hear again from us before long. I know Mrs. Bogert will need no apology, I am sure, for my not writing. The repetition of such symptoms are distressing to me beyond expression. Your affectionate niece O. S. BROWNE. To Mrs. Bowne. New York, Feb’y 4, 1809.