DEAR MRS. MOSCHELES,--Here is Berlin, September 13, and my father once
more safely lodged in the Leipzigerstrasse, and feeling quite well. I
should write you a long and detailed letter, if I did not wish to send a
few words without delay from this place, which we reached yesterday, and
which I must leave again the day after to-morrow; you can fancy how the
whole day is spent in the family circle, with neither time nor
inclination for letter-writing. But to look back upon the anxious days I
have gone through, to remember all the kindness shown me, to feel that I
am relieved of a great responsibility, and to think of those who
assisted me in bearing its weight,--_that_ I have both leisure and
inclination to do, and that is the purport of this letter. Here all are
well and cheerful, and send their best love. My father was unlucky
enough to tread a nail into his foot, as we were visiting my uncle’s
place on the Rhine, on the very day the steamer brought us the
Dirichlets.[24] So he was laid up again for several days, and had to
perform the whole journey to Berlin stretched out in the coupé. This
little accident caused him more depression than his serious illness in
London, so that he felt excessively impatient to see his own home again,
and almost despaired of it. This, and in particular our necessarily slow
progress, with so many inns and nights’ lodgings, made the whole journey
most irksome, and my own impatience became the greater for having to
conceal it. But at last I felt happy indeed, as we drove into the
well-known courtyard, and the journey was safely over. The foot was but
slightly injured, and to-day my father is allowed to walk about.
Excuse haste. I shall write properly from Düsseldorf, where I must be in
a few days. And now farewell to you both. My love to Felix, Emily, and
Serena. Wish I could send her two carnations. Pray give them to her in
my name.
Wishing you all happiness, I am yours,