[309] from his Pen). My sister, for whom you have kindly inquired, is failing fast in health and strength. Believe me ever most sincerely yours,
To his brother George.
Boston, July 1, 1844.This is the first moment I have taken my seat at my desk for several days. I have been under Dr. Jackson's care,—the victim of a slow fever. I was glad to receive by the last packet Joinville's pamphlet, and the old ‘Life’ of Philip, which I shall send to Prescott,—though, as he does one thing at a time, he has very little attention to spare from ‘Peru.’ His materials for the ‘Life’ of Philip are accumulating on his hands, and already are very rich. He has just returned from a pleasant trip to Niagara, with his daughter. . . . Mary and Julia are at Waltham; and Mary seems to gain in strength, or at least to hold her own,—so as for the time to banish the gloomy anxieties which I entertained six weeks ago. She walks and drives daily, and is near beautiful places and kind friends. You will rejoice in the rejection of the infamous attempt to annex Texas, by a violation of the Constitution, and the laws of nations, and the principles of good morals and fellowship. The cause of the Whigs has never, to my eyes, looked more auspicious; though Bancroft assures me he has no doubt that Polk will be elected, and that his party look with confidence to a triumph. I do not feel strong enough for a long letter. Good-by! Ever affectionately yours,Chas.
To his brother George.
Boston, July 31, 1844.my dear George,—As I cannot yet hold a pen in my feverish fingers, I take advantage of Julia's kindness to send you from my bed a word of greeting. Since I last wrote you (July 15), I have been seriously ill,—more so than ever before in my life; and I understand that for several days Dr. Jackson and several others entertained but faint hopes for my recovery. I do not think, however, that they comprehended my case. I consider my disease to have been a slow, nervous fever, brought on by sitting and studying at my desk, till after the clock struck two at night. During the last four days I have gained in strength wonderfully. I have driven out for four successive days; and it seems to me as if I shall falsify the gloomy anticipations of the physicians. I feel, indeed, that I am on the road to recovery. It has been with inexpressible delight that during my drives I have looked on the green trees, and the sky, and the beauties of Nature,—from which, for several weeks, I have been quite shut out. My drive is the great event of the day; but I will not weary you with the details of a sick man. I cannot forbear alluding, however, to the great kindness, interest, and
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