_Salem_, Decr. 2d, 1844
_Ownest Phoebe_,
Thy letter came this morning--much needed; for I was feeling desolate
and fragmentary. Thou shouldst not ask me to come to Boston, because I
can hardly resist setting off this minute--and I have no right to
spend money for such luxuries. I think I shall stay here until Bridge
reaches Boston; for he wishes to see me then; and, if he could meet
thee, and baby, and me, it would save him and us the trouble and
perplexity of a visit at Concord. He will probably be in Boston in not
much more or less than a week; and I have written to him to call at
13, West St. When he arrives, let him be told to send for me
forthwith, or do thou write thyself; and I will immediately make my
appearance. Sweetest wife, it goes against my conscience to add
another inhabitant to the immense multitude in thy mother's
caravanserai; nevertheless, methinks I may come there for one night,
and, if I stay longer, remove thence to George Hillard's. But I don't
know. I should like to spend two or three days in Boston, if it could
be done without any derangement of other people or myself; but I
should not feel easy in the caravanserai. Perhaps it would be better
to go at once to George Hillard's. After we get home, we will rest one
another from all toils.
I am very well, dearest, and it seems to me that I am recovering some
of the flesh that I lost, during our long Lent. I do not eat quite
enough to satisfy mother and Louisa; but thou wouldst be perfectly
satisfied, and so am I. My spirits are pretty equable, though there is
a great vacuity caused by thy absence out of my daily life--a
bottomless abyss, into which all minor contentments might be flung
without filling it up. Still, I feel as if our separation were only
apparent--at all events, we are at less than an hour's distance from
one another, and therefore may find it easier to spend a week apart.
The good that I get by remaining here, is a temporary freedom from
that vile burthen which had irked and chafed me so long--that
consciousness of debt, and pecuniary botheration, and the difficulty
of providing even for the day's wants. This trouble does not pursue me
here; and even when we go back, I hope not to feel it nearly so much
as before. Polk's election has certainly brightened our prospects; and
we have a right to expect that our difficulties will vanish, in the
course of a few months.
I long to see our little Una; but she is not yet a vital portion of my
being. I find that her idea merges in thine. I wish for thee; and our
daughter is included in that wish, without being particularly
expressed. She has quite conquered the heart of our mother and
sisters; and I am glad of it, for now they can transfer their interest
from their own sombre lives to her happy one; and so be blest through
her. To confess the truth, she is a dear little thing.
Sweetest Phoebe: I don't intend to stay here more than a week, even if
Bridge should not arrive;--and should there be any reason for our
returning to Concord sooner, thou canst let me know. Otherwise, I
purpose to come to Boston in a week from to-day or tomorrow,--to spend
two or three days there--and then go back to the old Abbey; of which
there is a very dismal picture at present in my imagination, cold,
lonely, and desolate, with untrodden snow along the avenue, and on the
doorsteps. But its heart will be warm, when we are within. If thou
shalt want me sooner, write,--if not so soon, write.
God bless thee, mine ownest. I must close the letter now, because it
is dinner-time; and I shall take it to the Post-Office immediately
after dinner. I spend almost all my afternoons at the Athenaeum. Kiss
our child for me--one kiss for thyself and me together. I love her,
and live in thee.