_Surveyor's Office_, July 5th, 1848
Unspeakably belovedest, thy letter has just been handed me, and I
snatch a moment from much press of business to say a word to thee. It
has made my heart heave like the sea, it is so tender and sweet. Ah,
thou hast my whole soul. There is no thinking how much I love thee;
and how blessed thy love makes me. I wonder how thou canst love me.
Thy letter was also most comfortable to me, because it gives such a
picture of thy life there with the children. It seemed as if I could
see the whole family of my heart before my eyes, and could hear you
all talking together. I began to be quite uneasy about little
Bundlebreech's indisposition, until thy latest intelligence reassured
me. Yet I shall be anxious to hear again.
Dora could not come to Boston yesterday, to meet Rebecca, because she
has an infinity of work, and moreover, yesterday morning, she had to
go to bed with the tooth-ache.
I went to Boston to see the fireworks, and got home between 11 & 12
o'clock, last evening. I went into the little room to put on my linen
coat; and, on my return into the sitting room, behold! a stranger
there--whom dost thou think it might be?--it was Elizabeth! I did not
wish to risk frightening her away by anything like an exhibition of
wonder; and so we greeted one another kindly and cordially, but with
no more _empressement_ than if we were constantly in the habit of
meeting. It being so late, and I so tired, we did not have much talk
then; but she said she meant to go to walk this afternoon, and asked
me to go with her--which I promised to do. Perhaps she will now make
it her habit to come down and see us occasionally in the evening.
Oh, my love, my heart calls for thee so, that I know not how to wait
weeks longer for thee. Yet I would not that thou shouldst deprive the
children of the beautiful country on that account. All will be repaid
us in the first hour of meeting.
Own wife, the coat does not crock the shirtsleeve in the least--so thy
labor in lining it would have been thrown away. I gave the vest to
Louisa soon after thou wentest away, and have seen nothing of it
since.
I wish Una, and Julian too, would write a letter to Aunty 'Ouisa. I
know it would give her as much pleasure as anything can.
With infinite love,