You insist that
I should write about myself; this puts me in straits, for I really
have nothing interesting to say about myself. I think I have now
nearly got over the effects of my late illness, and am almost
restored to my normal condition of health. I sometimes wish that it
was a little higher, but we ought to be content with such blessings
as we have, and not pine after those that are out of our reach. I
feel much more uneasy about my sisters than myself just now. Emily's
cold and cough are very obstinate. I fear she has pain in the chest,
and I sometimes catch a shortness in her breathing, when she has
moved at all quickly. She looks very, very thin and pale. Her
reserved nature occasions me great uneasiness of mind. It is useless
to question her--you get no answers. It is still more useless to
recommend remedies--they are never adopted. Nor can I shut my eyes
to the fact of Anne's great delicacy of constitution. The late sad
event has, I feel, made me more apprehensive than common. I cannot
help feeling much depressed sometimes. I try to leave all in God's
hands; to trust in His goodness; but faith and resignation are
difficult to practise under some circumstances. The weather has been
most unfavourable for invalids of late: sudden changes of
temperature, and cold penetrating winds have been frequent here.
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