me to dine with them, as to-morrow, but I was forced to decline it, the walk is beyond my strength (though I am otherwise very well), and this is not a season for donkey-carriages; and as we do not like to spare uncle Charles, he has declined it too.

Tuesday.  Ah, ah!  Mr. E. I doubt your seeing uncle Henry at Steventon to-day.  The weather will prevent your expecting him, I think.  Tell your father, with aunt Cass’s love and mine, that the pickled cucumbers are extremely good, and tell him also—­“tell him what you will.”  No, don’t tell him what you will, but tell him that grandmamma begs him to make Joseph Hall pay his rent, if he can.

    ’You must not be tired of reading the word uncle, for I have not
   done with it.  Uncle Charles thanks your mother for her letter; it was
   a great pleasure to him to know that the parcel was received and gave
   so much satisfaction, and he begs her to be so good as to give three
   shillings for him to Dame Staples, which shall be allowed for in the
   payment of her debt here.

   ’Adieu, Amiable!  I hope Caroline behaves well to you.

   Yours affecly,
   ‘J.  AUSTEN.’

I cannot tell how soon she was aware of the serious nature of her malady.  By God’s mercy it was not attended with much suffering; so that she was able to tell her friends as in the foregoing letter, and perhaps sometimes to persuade herself that, excepting want of strength, she was ‘otherwise very well;’ but the progress of the disease became more and more manifest as the year advanced.  The usual walk was at first shortened, and then discontinued; and air was sought in a donkey-carriage.  Gradually, too, her habits of activity within the house ceased, and she was obliged to lie down much.  The sitting-room contained only one sofa, which was frequently occupied by her mother, who was more than seventy years old.  Jane would never use it, even in her mother’s absence; but she contrived a sort of couch for herself with two or three chairs, and was pleased to say that this arrangement was more comfortable to her than a real sofa.  Her reasons for this might have been left to be guessed, but for the importunities of a little niece, which obliged her to explain that if she herself had shown any inclination to use the sofa, her mother might have scrupled being on it so much as was good for her.

It is certain, however, that the mind did not share in this decay of the bodily strength.  ‘Persuasion’ was not finished before the middle of August in that year; and the manner in which it was then completed affords proof that neither the critical nor the creative powers of the author were at all impaired.  The book had been brought to an end in July; and the re-engagement of the hero and heroine effected in a totally different manner in a scene laid at Admiral Croft’s lodgings.  But her performance did not satisfy her.  She