Hungars
My dear sister
When the mind is big with a secret important to its own happiness ‘tis a very hard matter for one of my temper to retain it. By communicating to your friendly ear all my concerns, I have often found a vast relief from the Pallet disease1 I must now lay the burthen, which indeed does not oppress me, at your feet. I am almost ashamed to own that I have so little stability, so easily persuaded. When I parted from you, had any one told me I should have been a Wife in six or seven weeks, I should have concluded them entirely out of their latitude, quite beside themselves. Good God! I can scarcely myself believe it even now, although ‘tis most true. That is, if nothing intervenes to prevent it. I know cousin John will laugh at me, but you must not put it in the power of anyone else. I do not wish it to be known to a mortal besides.