o which were substituted for it: but it was
such as some writers and some readers might have been contented with; and
it contained touches which scarcely any other hand could have given, the
suppression of which may be almost a matter of regret. {167}

The following letter was addressed to her friend Miss Bigg, then staying
at Streatham with her sister, the wife of the Reverend Herbert Hill,
uncle of Robert Southey. It appears to have been written three days
before she began her last work, which will be noticed in another chapter;
and shows that she was not at that time aware of the serious nature of
her malady:--

'Chawton, January 24, 1817.

'MY DEAR ALETHEA,--I think it time there should be a little writing
between us, though I believe the epistolary debt is on _your_ side,
and I hope this will find all the Streatham party well, neither
carried away by the flood, nor rheumatic through the damps. Such mild
weather is, you know, delightful to _us_, and though we have a great
many ponds, and a fine running stream through the meadows on the other
side of the road, it is nothing but what beautifies us and does to
talk of. _I_ have certainly gained strength through the winter and am
not far from being well; and I think I understand my own case now so
much better than I did, as to be able by care to keep off any serious
return of illness. I am convinced that _bile_ is at the bottom of all
I have suffered, which makes it easy to know how to treat myself. You
will be glad to hear thus much of me, I am sure. We have just had a
few days' visit from Edward, who brought us a good account of his
father, and the very circumstance of his coming at all, of his
father's being able to spare him, is itself a good account. He grows
still, and still improves in appearance, at least in the estimation of
his aunts, who love him better and better, as they see the sweet
temper and warm affections of the boy confirmed in the young man: I
tried hard to persuade him that he must have some message for William,
{169a} but in vain. . . . This is not a time of year for
donkey-carriages, and our donkeys are necessarily having so long a run
of luxurious idleness that I suppose we shall find they have forgotten
much of their education when we use them again. We do not use two at
once however; don't imagine such excesses. . . Our own new clergyman
{169b} is expe