There is nothing which I remember with such pleasure as the time when you nursed me at Aspenden.

The other night, when I lay on my sofa very ill and hypochondriac, I was thinking over that time.

How sick, and sleepless, and weak I was, lying in bed, when I was told that you were come! How well I remember with what an ecstasy of joy I saw that face approaching me, in the middle of people that did not care if I died that night except for the trouble of burying me! The sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, are present to me now, and will be, I trust in God, to my last hour.

The very thought of these things invigorated me the other day; and I almost blessed the sickness and low spirits which brought before me associated images of a tenderness and an affection, which, however imperfectly repaid, are deeply remembered.

Such scenes and such recollections are the bright half of human nature and human destiny.