Let me not leave one unfavorable impression on your mind respecting my brother.  Since this has happened, he has been very kind and brotherly; but I fear for his mind.  He has taken his ease in the world, and is not fit himself to struggle with difficulties, nor has much accustomed himself to throw himself into their way; and I know his language is already, “Charles, you must take care of yourself, you must not abridge yourself of a single pleasure you have been used to,” etc., and in that style of talking.  But you, a necessarian, can respect a difference of mind, and love what is amiable in a character not perfect.  He has been very good, but I fear for his mind.  Thank God, I can unconnect myself with him, and shall manage all my father’s moneys in future myself, if I take charge of Daddy, which poor John has not even hinted a wish, at any future time even, to share with me.  The lady at this madhouse assures me that I may dismiss immediately both doctor and apothecary, retaining occasionally a composing draught or so for a while; and there is a less expensive establishment in her house, where she will only not have a room and nurse to herself, for L50 or guineas a year,—­the outside would be L60.  You know, by economy, how much more even I shall be able to spare for her comforts.  She will, I fancy, if she stays, make one of the family rather than of the patients; and the old and young ladies I like exceedingly, and she loves dearly; and they, as the saying is, take to her very extraordinarily, if it is extraordinary that people who see my sister should love her.

Of all the people I ever saw in the world, my poor sister was most and thoroughly devoid of the least tincture of selfishness, I will enlarge upon her qualities, poor dear, dearest soul, in a future letter, for my own comfort, for I understand her thoroughly; and if I mistake not, in the most trying situation that a human being can be found in, she will be found (I speak not with sufficient humility, I fear, but humanly and foolishly speaking),—­she will be found, I trust, uniformly great and amiable.  God keep her in her present mind, to whom be thanks and praise for all His dispensations to mankind!

C. LAMB.

These mentioned good fortunes and change of prospects had almost brought my mind over to the extreme the very opposite to despair.  I was in danger of making myself too happy.  Your letter brought me back to a view of things which I had entertained from the beginning.  I hope (for Mary I can answer)—­but I hope that I shall through life never have less recollection, nor a fainter impression, of what has happened than I have now.  ’T is not a light thing, nor meant by the Almighty to be received lightly.  I must be serious, circumspect, and deeply religious through life; and by such means may both of us escape madness in future, if it so please the Almighty!

Send me word how it fares with Sara.  I repeat it, your letter was, and will be, an inestimable treasure to me.  You have a view of what my situation demands of me, like my own view, and I trust a just one.