As I have written ^wrote you three letters last week,1 I’ve ^& having now^ nothing ^new to tell you, & therefore could ^I might only^ say with the school-boys, that this is to let you know that I am well, hoping you are so likewise, did I not feel so anxious about your health as to render fear more prevalent than hope—you will not be surpris’d at my uneasiness, when I tell you that 14 days have elaps’d since the date of yr. last letter,2 & that at length the evening of this long day has arrived with ^out^ the wish’d-for lines which the post usually brings me of a sunday Evening—perhaps the wind has been contrary to my wishes— I’ll endeavor ^at least^ to flatter myself at least that indisposition has not been the reason of ^my^ not hearing—

On Fryday, Peter call’d to see Abbe; she beg’d he would solicit ^leave for^ her return— As I fear’d she would not receive benefit from the society she had, I granted her request, & ^she^ appears ^am glad to find^ ^her^ penitent & desirous to efface by her future Conduct the reproach her late misstep has merited—

The Children are well & Peter I suppose will tell you that he is for he is writing to you—

The Countess d’Artois is now writing has lost her only daughter & I really feel for her, for she is a princess of an amiable Character & vastly fond of her Children.—3 Let me hear from you soon, for suspense is painful to your affecte. Wife