_Ownest Dove_,
I have almost forgotten how to write letters--not having put pen to
paper for that purpose (or any other, indeed) since my last to thee;
but I cannot help writing thee a few lines, now when I had hoped to be
listening to thy sweetest voice. Art thou much changed in this
intervening time? Is thy hair grown gray? Art thou an old woman?
Truly, it does appear very, very long to thy husband--an incomputable
period. Belovedest, I had been out this forenoon; and when I returned,
there was thy letter, lying on the threshold of my chamber-door. I had
a presage of calamity, as soon as I saw it. Had I known of this visit
of thine aunt, I would have taken the opportunity to go to Salem, and
so we would have had next Sunday to ourselves. Does thine aunt say
that thou lookest in magnificent health?--and that thou art very
beautiful? If she has not yet said so thou shouldst ask her opinion on
that point.
Belovedest, even if thine aunt Curtis should stay a week, do not
thou incommode thy mother and sisters by trying to arrange a meeting.
It is very painful to me to disturb and derange anybody in the world.
Thou dost not say whether thou art very well to-day--and whether thou
art light of heart. I beseech thee never to write me even the shortest
note, without giving me a glimpse of thyself in the very moment of
writing;--and yet, I leave it all to thee, and withdraw this last
petition. Thou knowest best what to write; for thou art an inspired
little penwoman.
Thy husband is to measure salt at the end of Long Wharf tomorrow, and
the next day, and probably the next, and the next. It is as desirable
a place and employment as a Measurer can expect; so let thy visions of
me be rather pleasurable than otherwise. I am in particularly good
health; but my heart hungers for thee--nevertheless, I mean to be
cheerful and content. Do thou be so likewise, little Dove--and naughty
Sophie Hawthorne too. Now, good-bye. This is a very empty letter--at
least, it would be so, if it had not an infinite love in it. God bless
thee.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody,
No. 13 West street,
Boston.