unhappiness. It is now a week since I received your last letter. You
are ill. You have been imprudent, and all my fears are fulfilled.
Without any one near you to feel for you, to attend to you, to watch
every change and share every pain. Your wife only could do that. It is
her whose soul clings to yours, and vibrates but in harmony with it;
whose happiness, whose every emotion, more than entirely dependant on
yours, are exchanged for them. It is she only who forgets herself in
you, and who, in gratifying your wishes or alleviating your pain,
serves the interest nearest her heart. I know you have friends with
you; but, when you lose your vivacity, and your society is robbed of
its usual charms, they will find your chamber dull, and leave it for
some more amusing place. They cannot, like your little Theo., hang
over you in your sleep, and, with a beating heart, listen to every
groan and tremble at every noise. Your son, too, were we with you,
would charm away your cares. His smiles could not fail to sooth any
pain. They possess a magic which you cannot conceive till you see him.
Would we were with you, my beloved. I am miserable about you. Adieu.
Heaven bless my husband, and I am happy.

THEODOSIA.



THEODOSIA TO JOSEPH ALSTON.

New-York, October 30, 1802.

I have just received yours of the 21st. You already know the result of
my confinement in bed. It certainly relieved me for some time, which
proves how easily that cure would have succeeded at first. I have now