It may not be improper to mention ourselves, what the nature of
the kindnesses is, which we confer on our poor neighbours, and the
labouring people, lest it should be surmised, by any body, that we
are lavishing away wealth that is not our own. Not that we fear either
your honoured husband or you will suspect so, or that the worthy
Mr. Longman would insinuate as much; for he saw what we did, and was
highly pleased with it, and said he would make such a report of it as
you write he did. What we do is in small things, though the good we
hope from them is not small perhaps: and if a very distressful
case should happen among our poor neighbours, requiring any thing
considerable, and the objects be deserving, we would acquaint you with
it, and leave it to you to do as God should direct you.
My dear child, you are very happy, and if it _can_ be, may you be
happier still! Yet I verily think you cannot be more happy than your
father and mother, except in this one thing, that all our happiness,
under God, proceeds from you; and, as other parents bless their
children with plenty and benefits, you have blessed your parents (or
your honoured husband rather for your sake) with all the good things
this world can afford.
Your papers are the joy of our leisure hours; and you are kind beyond
all expression, in taking care to oblige us with them. We know how
your time is taken up, and ought to be very well contented, if but
now and then you let us hear of your health and welfare. But it is
not enough with such a good daughter, that you have made our lives
_comfortable_, but you will make them _joyful_ too, by communicating
to us, all that befals you: and then you write so piously, and
with such a sense of God's goodness to you, and intermix such good
reflections in your writings, that whether it be our partial love or
not, I cannot tell, but, truly, we think nobody comes up to you: and
you make our hearts and eyes so often overflow, as we read, that we
join hand in hand, and say to each other, in the same breath--"Blessed
be God, and blessed be you, my love,"--"For such a daughter," says the
one--"For such a daughter," says the other--"And she has your own sweet
temper," cry I.--"And she has your own honest heart," cries she: and
so we go on, blessing God, and you, and blessing your spouse, and
ourselves!--Is any happiness like ours, my dear daughter?
We are really so enraptured with your writings, that when our spirits
flag, through the infirmity of years, which hath begun to take hold of
us, we have recourse to some of your papers:--"Come, my dear," cry I,
"what say you to a banquet now?"--She knows what I mean. "With all my
heart," says she. So I read although it be on a Sunday, so good are
your letters; and you must know, I have copies of many, and after a
little while we are as much alive and brisk, as if we had no nagging
at all, and return to the duties of the day with double delight.
Consider then, my dear child, what joy your writings give us: and
yet we are afraid of oppressing you, who have so much to do of other
kinds; and we are heartily glad you have found out a way to save
trouble to yourself, and rejoice us, and oblige so worthy a young
lady as Miss Darnford, all at one time. I never shall forget her dear
goodness, and notice of me at the Hall, kindly pressing my rough hands
with her fine hands, and looking in my face with _so_ much kindness
in her eyes!--What good people, as well as bad, there are in high
stations!--Thank God there are; else our poor child would have had
a sad time of it too often, when she was obliged to _step out of
herself_, as once I heard you phrase it, into company you could not
_live with_.
Well, but what shall I say more? and yet how shall I end?--Only, with
my prayers, that God will continue to you the blessing and comforts
you are in possession of!--And pray now, be not over-thoughtful about
London; for why should you let the dread of future evils lessen your
present joys?--There is no absolute perfection in this life, that's
true; but one would make one's self as easy as one could. 'Tis time
enough to be troubled when troubles come--"_Sufficient unto the day is
the evil thereof_."
Rejoice, then, as you have often said you would, in your present
blessings, and leave the event of things to the Supreme Disposer
of all events. And what have _you_ to do but to rejoice? _You_, who
cannot see a sun rise, but it is to bless you, and to raise up from
their beds numbers to join in the blessing! _You_ who can bless your
high-born friends, and your low-born parents, and obscure relations!
the rich by your example, and the poor by your bounty; and bless
besides so good and so brave a husband;--O my dear child, what, let
me repeat it, have _you_ to do but rejoice?--_For many daughters have
done wisely, but you have excelled them all_.
I will only add, that every thing the 'squire ordered is just upon the
point of being finished. And when the good time comes, that we shall
be again favoured with his presence and yours, what a still greater
joy will this afford to the already overflowing hearts of _your ever
loving father and mother_,
JOHN _and_ ELIZ. ANDREWS.