I am very sorry my own dear love to write instead of coming--but Papa won't bring me. All this hot weather I have been discomposed. Flagging, limp, out of curl, like a soused wig or a drenched gauze bonnet--& having in the midst of the warmth contrived to catch cold am today so heated that his Worship declares a crowded Theatre would throw me into a fever. So I must submit & rely on you for an exact account of the diversion I had anticipated with so much pleasure. Come & tell me all about it--Come very soon & send me word by Papa when. I dare say this indisposition (is that not the lady-like word?) will have vanished by tomorrow or the next day--Do come >my dear loves very very soon. Come both of you.

The chief purport of my writing was to say from Mama & from all that the Ducks were the finest ever eaten, &, the attention prettier than anything--But you should not have done it my >dear loves. Don't we in person eat twenty Ducks a year & fifty Chickens at dear Wokingham? To say nothing of bacon hams & butchers meat?--If we sent you anything it should be something monstrous a whole mammoth or a whale.

I hope Papa will find the dear Mr. Webb much better--& everybody else quite well--A thousand loves to you all--