LETTER IV
My Dearest Life,
It was no small satisfaction to me in the present state of affairs to hear you was gone. It is what I shall bless God for while I live. Your servant’s return was the first account I had; tho’ my grief was unexpressable the thoughts of your safety did mitigate it very much. It was impossible but you did foresee what wold happen when I was with you, and if you did, you were much to blame not (to) tell me your thoughts of itt, and what methods should be taken for your private affairs. Charles is here just now and most kindly offers to doe all in his power, as I doubt not all your other friends will; but he expected I wold have had a method from you. Whether you did not imagin so suden an end, or would not give mee a sore heart befor the time, I know not.
Now let me beg of you, as you regard me and your children, not to have any uneasy thoughts about us. I am not afraid of want of sober bread for them and myself; but as I told you the thoughts of your being in pinches is very Bitter, and the prospect I must have of being absent from you for some time, and perhaps for ever, is what imploys my thoughts night and day. But why should I complain of what God in his wise providence has ordered as a just punishment for the abuse of many mercys. Let us then, my Dearest, submit with patience, and trust in that mercyful Father who has hitherto preserv’d you from so imminent dangers, that He will, in His own good time, give us a comfortable meeting, and to live as becomes the children of affliction, in endeavouring to set our hearts above the world and the vanitys thereof.
I am most impatient to hear from you, and if ye knew what a relief it wold be to have a letter, you wold (have) writ the moment you landed. The person mine is directed to wold find a way to send one to me. I was heartily sorry you was not better provided with money, but if you please to take 100 pound from Mr. Gordon, and make him draw on his correspondent at Edinr., I shall endeavour to have it ready on some day’s sight. I am to beg (you) earnestly to let me know what resolution you have taken as to the place of your abode, and not to be sudden in resolving, but to let me know what you intend, and I hop as you regard my quiet you will not doe anything till you have my consent. I must see what shape things will take here, before I can frame a resolution of seeing you.... There was a great consternation amongst your freinds att the departure of two great men that followed you, and I find the not acquainting them with it is thought hard. I hear they keep still together, but that cannot doe long, God help them! You are lucky in your misfortune that you have kind freinds that are both willing and capable to serve you, and I am hopeful by their means to be in a better state than many others, which is great deal more than we deserve.
Now let me again beg of you to writ freely to me, and tell me every uneasy thought you have, and make youself as easy as possible, and put in practice the virtue of resignation which you have so often talkt of to me. The more frequently you writ I will be the easyer. Your children are well, but poor B. is in great affliction for her brother and talks of leaveing me. Charls and all freinds here salute you, and I am, my Dearest, Life,
Yours,
Fe. 13.
I must say Charls makes all the kind offers to me that you can imagine.