…In the evening walked down to Halland, but did not stay. After I came back wrote my London letters. My wife, poor creature, very ill and so full of pain that it is past my power to describe it or even, I think, anyone to believe it, but only we that are constantly with her. Ah, melancholy situation; but still, I am thoroughly assured it is that which is best for me, for the unerring ways of God’s providence are undoubtedly right and just.