LETTER X.
Dear Mother,—Mr. Yeatman has just sent me
your letter of the 25th,—accompanied by a packet
of snipe and a quantity of rusks. He has joined
forces with my doctor; they had a consultation up in
my room one day, which has resulted in my eating a
little meat.
[1]
Mr. Yeatman sends me snipe with the
threat that if
they are not eaten—beefsteak shall be.
He has also sent me the most delicious jelly, the maker
of which, his sister, is coming to see me. Of course I
am getting well, and you must not say I am "worn
out," but got sick going down the river, as a great many
do. I am glad I went; it was an experience, every way,
I would not have lost. I long to be at my work: there
is so much to be done. Mr. Yeatman, one day, wrote
me a note of which I should like to repeat the last
words. "You must try and regard
it [my illness] as
only a part of your schooling for the high and holy
mission in which you are engaged." Now, mother, I
feel sometimes as if I were not good enough for the
work, and that was the reason it was taken from me
for a time. I may need more discipline myself, and
not be as really fit to work in the way I wish as I
think I am. We shall see; I am going to try very
hard, and keep my thoughts and actions right and
Christianly, and then, if it is best for me, I shall have
this work to do, or rather, be able to do it. Mrs.
Chauvenet's neighbors have been kind in calling,
and sending me jelly and blanc-mange. These river
diseases oblige one to be careful. I have got ahead of
mine.
If the Lord sees fit to let me work, I think this will
be a good place for me; but He knows best. I have
just eaten one of my snipe, with rusk, and drank some
wine this morning. I had rather have tomatoes and
potatoes than either, but my little German doctor is
decided.
When the letters miscarried, and I was three weeks
without getting one, I was in despair. I got so nervous
that the doctor told Mrs. Chauvenet my mind
wanted helping as much as my body.
