After breakfast my father Slater went home… At home all day. But little to do. My wife, poor creature, most extreme ill; who can paint or describe my trouble? No, it is out of the power of human being to do it, and God grant my most inveterate enemies, if any I have, may never know so melancholy a situation. My soul is quite overwhelmed with grief; oh, the loss of so inestimable a treasure, even that of a sincere friend and virtuous wife!