you desire, in letting you know that I mend, though slowly, and yet, when I consider that 'tis but three weeks since I received so great a bruise, that 'tis an amazing thing to think all my bones were not broken. I find much matter for praise and thanksgiving, and none to repine at the slowth of my recovery. I beseech God to grant that I may never be unmindful of this great deliverance from misfortunes worse than death. Pray for me, my good friend, that I may be sensible, as I ought to be, of all his providences to me, and of this in particular."
With one more letter which breathes a kind and affectionate spirit, and which was written, probably, to the widow of Evelyn,[1] and when she was a widow herself, for in it there is no mention made of him, we close the correspondence and the story of Lady Sunderland.
"Last night I received a letter from you dated the 5th of this month, full of complaints that you never hear from me, for which I should be highly to blame did I give occasion, but, indeed, my dear
- ↑ Evelyn died in February, 1706.
