I have been subscribing other letters—so I mechanically did the same to yours.
LETTER LXI.
Aug. 5.
Employment and exercise have been of great service to me; and I have entirely recovered the strength and activity I lost during the time of my nursing. I have seldom been in better health; and my mind, though trembling to the touch of anguish, is calmer—yet still the same. I have, it is true, enjoyed some tranquillity, and more happiness here, than for a long—long time past. (I say happiness, for I can give no other appellation to the exquisite delight this wild country and fine summer have afforded me.) Still, on examining my heart, I find that it is so constituted, I cannot live without some particular affection.—I am afraid not without a passion, and I feel the want of it more in society, than in solitude——
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Writing to you, whenever an affectionate epithet occurs, my eyes fill with tears, and my trembling hand stops—you may then depend on my resolution, when with you. If I am doomed to be unhappy, I will confine my anguish in my own bosom—tenderness, rather than passion, has made me sometimes overlook delicacy, the same tenderness will in future restrain me.
God bless you!