Colchester April 5. 1790

Dear Brother

It grieves me that I have but a sad
account to give you of poor Dr F. He is certainly worse than he was when I wrote last. His appetite fails him, he grows
weaker & is surprisingly shrunk within this last week.
The pain he feels & his apprehensions, together, keep him in
perpetual restlessness & agitation, both of body & mind. He cannot now relieve himself by any amusement. he cannot
settle to read even a news-paper. If some sudden turn does
not take place, we apprehend he cannot go there long :
he must be worn out. His swallow too is worse, he says, than
war. There seems to be no hopes in medicine. The external swelling of his throat does not seem likely to break : & if
it did, it is feared it offer only temporary relief.
Last night I found him very [?bad] indeed. You shall know

before I close this letter how he is this morning.
As to myself how can my spiritt be otherwise than
depressed with this sad scene constantly before my eyes &
the prospect of such a real, practical loss (if I may so
speak) as I am likely to fee: and feel [?] it, most certainly
I shall, to the day of my death. It is scarce possible for one
human being {^man} to Miss another more than I shall miss
him. But this must be as Heaven pleases
I am sorry to
say , that I have just caught, I know not how or where, a thin
cold, which is at present uncomfortable enough. But these
things are trifles. Mrs Fs cold is still bad, & she is very hoarse
& coughs a good deal: which is not a trifle.
I did hope
as I told you, to be able to see you after Easter; but
now it is very doubtful. I cannot, I ought not to leave Dr
F while he is in this way, & {^while} it is some comfort to him to
see me often : besides that I sh be uneasy if I could not know, every day, how he went on.