There is no better way, my dearest E., of thanking you for your affectionate concern for me during my illness than by telling you myself, as soon as possible, that I continue to get better. I will not boast of my handwriting--neither that nor my face have yet recovered their proper beauty; but in other respects I gain strength very fast; am now out of bed from 9 in the morning to 10 at night; upon the sofa, it is true, but I eat my meals with Aunt Cassandra in a rational way, and can employ myself, and walk from one room to another. Mr. Lyford says he will cure me, and if he fails I shall draw up a memorial and lay it before the Dean and Chapter, and have no doubt of redress from that pious, learned, and disinterested body. Our lodgings are very comfortable. We have a neat little drawing-room with a bow window, overlooking Dr. Gabell’s garden.... On Thursday, which is a confirmation and a holiday, we are to get Charles [_a relative--then a boy at the College_] out to breakfast. We have had but one visit from him, poor fellow, as he is in sick-room, but he hopes to be out to-night.... God bless you, my dear E. If ever you are ill, may you be as tenderly nursed as I have been. May the same blessed alleviations of anxious, sympathising friends be yours; and may you possess, as I dare say you will, the greatest blessing of all, in the consciousness of not being unworthy of their love. _I_ could not feel this.--Your very affectionate aunt, J. A.