"Chiswick,
London, February 19th, 1825.
My dear Clare,
I have been reproaching myself some time for not answering your last
letter sooner, and as I am telling my congregation this Lent that it
is no use to reproach oneself for one's sins if one does not amend
them, I will mend this. I will freely own I should not have felt the
same compunction if you had been in health and spirits, but when I
find you so grievously complaining of the want of both, I cannot
leave you any longer without such poor comfort as a line for two from
me can give. I wish I were a doctor, and a skilful one, for your
sake. I mean a doctor of medicine. For though I were a doctor of
divinity I doubt I could recommend to you no better prescription in
that way than I can as plain Mister. Nay, it is one that any old
woman in your parish could hit upon as readily as myself, and that
is, patience and submission to a Will that is higher and wiser than
our own. How often have I stood in need of it myself, and with what
difficulty have I swallowed it, and how hard have I found it to keep
on my stomach! May you, my friend, have better success! If you do not
want it in one way you are sure to have occasion for it before long
in some other. If you should be raised up from this sickness, as I
trust you will, do not suppose but that you will have something else
to try you. This, you will say, is not a very cheering prospect, but
remember these lines in Crowe's poem, which you so justly admire:--
'Tis meet we jostle with the world, content,
If by our Sovereign Master we be found
At last not profitless.
What follows, I fear neither you nor I have philosophy enough to add
with sincerity:--
For worldly meed,
Given or withheld, I deem of it alike.
I will read the memoir of yourself which you purpose sending me, and
not fail to tell you if I think you have spoken of others with more
acrimony than you ought. There is no occasion for sending me with it
your new publication. I shall get it as I have those before. I hope
the last chapter of your memoir, if brought up to the present time,
will record your children's having got safely over the small pox, of
which you express apprehensions in your last letter. We have got well
through the winter hitherto. For want of better employment I have
been teaching my youngest boy Dicky to write. Perhaps you will think
me not over well qualified for so important an office, but I assure
you when I have two parallel lines ruled at proper distances I can
produce something like a copy. To teach others is no bad way to learn
one's self. In spite of the floggings which I had at school, I could
never learn that grammar for which you have so great an aversion,
thoroughly, till I began to instruct my own son in it, but then I
made a wonderful progress. I should not succeed so well in collecting
ferns. A physician once recommended to me the study of botany for the
good of my health, but he had published an edition of Linnaeus.
Another prescribed to me port wine, but, poor man, he soon fell a
martyr to his own system. In such matters common sense and one's own
inclination are the best guides. Mrs. C. and your other acquaintances
here remember you kindly. I am dear Clare, with best wishes for
yourself and family,
Your affectionate friend,