How little we can tell from day to day what will happen to us or our
friends. I promised you a merry frankful of nonsense this day, and
instead of that we must send you the melancholy account of poor Dr.
Beddoes' death. [Footnote: Dr. Beddoes, who had married Anna Edgeworth,
was the author of almost innumerable books. His pupil, Sir Humphry Davy,
says: "He had talents which would have exalted him to the pinnacle of
philosophical eminence, if they had been applied with discretion."] I
enclose Emmeline's letter, which will tell you all better than I can.
Poor Anna! how it has been possible for her weak body to sustain her
through such trials and such exertions, GOD only knows. My father and
mother have written most warm and pressing invitations to her to come
here immediately, and bring all her children. How fortunate it was that
little Tom [Footnote: Thomas Lovell Beddoes, 1803-1849, author of _The
Bride's Tragedy_, and of _Death's Jest-Book._] came here last summer,
and how still more fortunate that the little fellow returned with Henry
to see his poor father before he died.
To MRS. RUXTON.