_Concord_, June 2d, 1844. 12 o'clock
_Mine ownest_,
Thy letter was brought this morning by one of the Fullers--which, I
know not--but it was the young man who called on us last winter; and
he promises to call and take this. Sweetest, if it troubles thee to
write, thou must not make the attempt. Perhaps it is not good for thy
head; and thy mother can just say a word or two, to let me know that
all is going on well. Oh, keep thyself quiet, dearest wife, and let
not thy brain be whirled round in the vortex of thy present
whereabout; else I must have thee back again as soon as possible. But
if it be for thy good, I can spare thee at least a month longer;
indeed, thou must not come till the Doctor has both found out thy
disorder and cured it.
Everything goes on well with thy husband. Thou knowest, at the time of
writing my last letter, I was without bread. Well, just at supper
time came Mrs. Brown with a large covered dish, which proved to
contain a quantity of special good slap jacks, piping hot, prepared, I
suppose, by the fair hands of Miss Martha or Miss Abby; for Mrs.
Prescott was not at home. They served me both for supper and
breakfast; and I thanked Providence and the young ladies, and compared
myself to the prophet fed by ravens--though the simile does rather
more than justice to myself, and not enough to the generous donors of
the slap jacks. The next morning, Mrs. Prescott herself brought two
big loaves of bread, which will last me a week, unless I have some
guests to provide for. I have likewise found a hoard of crackers in
one of the covered dishes; so that the old castle is sufficiently
provisioned to stand a long siege. The cornbeef is exquisitely done,
and as tender as a young lady's heart, all owing to my skilful
cookery; for I consulted Mrs. Hale at every step; and precisely
followed her directions. To say the truth, I look upon it as such a
masterpiece in its way, that it seems irreverential to eat it; so
perhaps thou wilt find it almost entire at thy return. Things on which
so much thought and labor are bestowed should surely be immortal.
Ellery Channing intends to make a tour presently. Wm. Fuller says he
is at variance with Miss Prescott--or at least is uncomfortable in the
house with her. What a gump! I have had some idea of inviting him to
stay here till thy return; but really, on better consideration, the
experiment would be too hazardous. If he cannot keep from quarrelling
with his wife's nurse, he would surely quarrel with me, alone in an
empty house; and perhaps the result might be a permanent breach. On
the whole, he is but little better than an idiot. He should have been
whipt often and soundly in his boyhood; and as he escaped such
wholesome discipline then, it might be well to bestow it now. But
somebody else may take him in hand; it is none of my business.
Leo and I attended divine services, this morning, in a temple not made
with hands. We went to the farthest extremity of Peter's path, and
there lay together under an oak, on the verge of the broad meadow.
Dearest Phoebe, thou shouldst have been there. Thy head would have
been quite restored by the delicious air, which was too good and pure
for anybody but thee to breathe. Shouldst thou not walk out, every
day, round the common, at least, if not further? Thou must not fear to
leave Una occasionally. I shall not love her, if she imprisons thee
when thy health requires thee to be abroad. Do not people offer to
take thee to ride?
I doubt whether Mr. Bradford could be comfortable here, unless there
were womankind in the house to keep it in better order than it suits
my convenience to do. A man of his nice conscience would be shocked, I
suppose, if the whole house were not swept, every day, from top to
bottom, or if the dishes of several meals were suffered to accumulate,
in order to save trouble by a general cleansing. Now such enormities
do not at all disturb my composure. Besides, I find myself such good
company, and the hours flit so rapidly away, that I have no time to
bestow on anybody else. Talk is but a waste of time. When I cannot be
with thee, mine ownest--my true life--then let me be alone. I wrote to
Mr. Farley, yesterday; and am sorry for it, since I received thy
letter. But I presume there is no prospect of his coming; and should
he do so, I shall not hesitate to advise him to go away, if our mode
of life here should seem unsuitable to his condition.
Darlingest wife, when thou writest next, tell me if thou canst see the
termination of thy absence; but do not think it in the least necessary
to hurry on my account. I find I have shirts enough for a fortnight or
three weeks longer; and can get somebody to wash them, at the end of
that time. Do not hurry thyself--do not be uneasy. I had rather come
and see thee in Boston, than that thou shouldst return too soon.
Give my blessing to our daughter.