It do seem a long while since your letter, which was a beauty,
and I kissed it a good few times. You know very well how to do a
love letter. I can see the two of you at it, your golden hair
shining and your pretty face bent down, and Weaver smiling a
bit, and looking well amused, with those eyes that would ’tice
any girl away from her own man, and mind you dunna fall in love
with anybody but me, if possible. Maybe I shall see you at the
Christmas market. Tell Weaver that all Mother’s tales of our
Prue be made-ups, for she’s very ornary in every way. Tell
Mister Grimble I could do with a few lambs. Tell Weaver when he
goes nigh Huglet’s he might carry a gun as well as not, for
Huglet’s got an awful dog now, and I hope all’s well betwixt
Weaver and Grimble. If there’s ever any sewing work Weaver wants
done, being a lone womanless man, I’ve got two women in my
house, Mother and sister, both glad of a job at a fair price,
and red cabbage pickle and damson cheese they maken, which pays
them very well to sell at half market price, and a charity to
employ them. It’s a middling harvest, longhorn’s dropped her
calf, young Camperdine’s expected back next year, and if they’ve
gotten fut-rot, back they’ll come, dang-swang, and so good-bye
for now, and take all care of self. In the beginning of a cough
take a lemon and crushed honeycomb fire-hot, and you be my
dearest, dearest love as I’d spend my life for very willing any
time, and die for you by bite of dog or any way, my dear, and so
good night, from your lover