University of Virginia Library

“Dear Husband—When I last wrote, the
full tide of happiness seemed flowing in upon
me on every side; but alas! the change. Johnny,
the day after I wrote you, was taken ill,
and has continued so ever since. His disease
the doctor pronounces to be the scarlet fever.
To-day he is a little better; and while he is
sleeping, I have taken my writing-desk to his
bedside, that I may be ready to note any alteration.

“As painful, William, as was our separation,
and as much as I regret your absence (rendered
tenfold more trying by our child's illness),
I have reason to rejoice that I am here.
Our ministering angel, your good aunt, has
been my nurse, companion, and friend—in short,
everything to me. All the family have been
unwearied in their kindness and attention.

“You know how unaccustomed I have been
to sickness—how ready I always was to intrust
the care of Johny, when an infant, to a nurse,

that I might shine in the assembly or grace a
party. Now I fear that my hour of retribution
has come. How often, since our little darling
has been so ill, have I prayed that such folly
might be forgiven me. Of all sins, it now appears
to me that those of a careless mother
are the most reprehensible. Dorcas tells me
the nurse used to give him stuff out of a vial
to make him sleep when I was out late, and
she brought me one of them, which she had
been using as an ink-bottle, labelled Paregoric.
Can I ever forgive myself such neglect? If
his life is only spared, never will I be again so
heedless.

“We are uniting in devising means for his
relief: sympathy is expressed by every member
of the family; and such quietness reigns
in the house, you would think it almost deserted,
so cautiously do these well-trained domestics
avoid the additional pain which noise produces.
If we are all spared to meet again,
shall I put in practice what I am so deeply
charmed with here?

“Our good minister has called: from the
tenour of his remarks, I fear he thinks Johny

will not recover. He seems better to me, but
whether I am deceiving myself or not, time
will determine. Amid all these proofs of sympathy,
how much, William, I feel the need of
yours?”

“Afternoon

“Our child has now passed the crisis of his
disease, and is pronounced out of danger. We
can never repay the unwearied kindness of
Aunt Ruth. Above all, let our gratitude ascend
to the Preserver of our lives.”

“Dear Aunt—You very good-naturedly
ask me how I like the change from my former
mode of living. I will frankly tell you, that it
scarcely admits a comparison. I blush to recall
my former imbecility, and often wonder
at the long suffering of my friends, and of
William in particular—that he should chide so
little when he felt so much!

“I believe I never told you to what cause I
attributed the superficial mode of thinking I
once indulged. When I first entered the
world, or `came out,' as the phrase is, I was
too much flattered. I was literally surfeited
by the praise of my charms. These I magnified
and dwelt upon until I was weak enough
to believe them all-sufficient.

“When not attending parties, I compensated
for the loss of that kind of excitement by reading

novels. Viewing life through this false
mirror, I became disgusted with the real, except
when it accorded with my disordered,
dreamy imagination; and when I was married,
I resolved that no domestic ties should
sever me from my favourite amusements.

“My kitchen was of course beneath my notice,
provided my wants could be supplied;
the improvidence of the servants did not disturb
me at all, my main object being to move
in the fashionable world. And yet that life
now appears to me, as I reflect upon it, the
most unenviable. I was continually tormenting
myself about trifles. If a house was furnished
more fashionably than my own, if my
acquaintances were more richly dressed, I
would worry myself and William about it till
I obtained his consent to similar extravagance.
This made me a restless, unhappy being; for
who that becomes such a slave does not see
something to covet which another possesses?

“Just before your timely visit, you remember,
I gave my long-talked-of party, the unhappy
effects of which I feel to this day; for,
in my desire to include new friends, I forgot

the rules of true politeness, and excluded some
old ones, whose forfeited friendship I shall ever
regret.

“At that time you came. How I received
you, you well know. Escaped from the prodigality
of the housekeeper, and vexed with domestics
who repaid my want of interest in
them by feeling none for me, it appeared to
me that you had stepped in to be a witness
against me to my already irritated husband.
How I misjudged you! You seem to me now
to have been `an angel sent on an errand of
mercy,' an instrument to enlighten me, and, I
trust, save me.

“Now I look upon the past as time wasted
and misused, and feel that I have need to redouble
my diligence to atone in part for manifold
defects. My duties are now my pleasures.
The responsibilities of a wife and mother
are viewed, I trust, as a Christian should regard
them.

“I have laid aside my novels, and give my
leisure to those more profitable books which
enlighten the understanding and improve the
heart. I devote to my child and my husband
those evenings I once frittered away in the gay

assembly, and william bids me add that, as
you made your first visit when we were only
`Keeping House,' he desires you to come and
find us `House Keeping.'