_Brook Farm_, April 28th, 1841--7 A.M.
Mine ownest, what a beautiful bright morning is this! I do trust that
thou hast not suffered so much from the late tremendous weather, as to
be unable now to go abroad in the sunshine. I tremble, almost, to
think how thy tender frame has been shaken by that continual cough,
which cannot but have grown more inveterate throughout these
interminable ages of east wind. At times, dearest, it has seemed an
absolute necessity for me to see thee and find out for a certain truth
whether thou wert well or ill. Even hadst thou been here, thou wouldst
have been penetrated to the core with the chill blast. Then how must
thou have been afflicted, where it comes directly from the sea.
Belovedest, thy husband was caught by a cold, during his visit to
Boston. It has not affected his whole frame, but took entire
possession of his head, as being the weakest and most vulnerable
part. Never didst thou hear anybody sneeze with such vehemence and
frequency; and his poor brain has been in a thick fog--or rather, it
seemed as if his head were stuffed with coarse wool. I know not when I
have been so pestered before; and sometimes I wanted to wrench off my
head, and give it a great kick, like a foot-ball. This annoyance has
made me endure the bad weather with even less than ordinary patience;
and my faith was so far exhausted, that, when they told me yesterday
that the sun was setting clear, I would not even turn my eyes towards
the west. But, this morning, I am made all over anew; and have no
greater remnant of my cold, than will serve as an excuse for doing no
work to-day. Dearest, do not let Mrs. Ripley frighten thee with
apocryphal accounts of my indisposition. I have told thee the whole
truth. I do believe that she delights to disquiet people with doubts
and fears about their closest friends; for, once or twice, she has
made thy cough a bugbear to thy husband. Nevertheless, I will not
judge too harshly of the good lady, because I like her very well, in
many respects.
The family has been dismal and dolorous, throughout the storm. The
night before last, William Allen was stung by a wasp, on the eyelid;
whereupon, the whole side of his face swelled to an enormous
magnitude; so that, at the breakfast table, one half of him looked
like a blind giant (the eye being closed) and the other half had such
a sorrowful and ludicrous aspect, that thy husband was constrained to
laugh, out of sheer pity. The same day, a colony of wasps was
discovered in thy husband's chamber, where they had remained
throughout the winter, and were now just bestirring themselves,
doubtless with the intention of stinging me from head to foot. Thou
wilt readily believe, that not one of the accursed crew escaped my
righteous vengeance. A similar discovery was made in Mr. Farley's
room. In short, we seem to have taken up our abode in a wasps' nest.
Thus thou seest, belovedest, that a rural life is not one of unbroken
quiet and serenity.
If the middle of the day prove warm and pleasant, thy husband promises
himself to take a walk, in every step of which thou shalt be his
companion. Oh, how I long for thee to stay with me; in reality, among
the hills, and dales, and woods, of our home. I have taken one walk,
with Mr. Farley; and I could not have believed that there was such
seclusion, at so short a distance from a great city. Many spots seem
hardly to have been visited for ages--not since John Eliot preached to
the Indians here. If we were to travel a thousand miles, we could not
escape the world more completely than we can here.
Sweetest, I long unspeakably to see thee--it is only the thought of
thee that draws my spirit out of this solitude. Otherwise, I care
nothing for the world nor its affairs. I read no newspapers, and
hardly remember who is President; and feel as if I had no more concern
with what other people trouble themselves about, than if I dwelt in
another planet. But, still, thou drawest me to thee continually; and
so I can realise how a departed spirit feels, while looking back from
another world to the beloved ones of this. All other interests appear
like shadows and trifles; but love is a reality, which makes the
spirit still an inhabitant of the world which it has quitted.
Ownest wife, if Mr. Ripley comes into Boston on Sunday, it is my
purpose to accompany him. Otherwise, thou mayst look for me some time
during the ensuing week. Be happy, dearest; and above all, do shake
off that tremendous cough. Take great care of thyself, and never
venture out when there is the least breath of east-wind; but spread
thy wings in the sunshine, and be joyous as itself.
God bless thee.