LETTER VIII
March 23.
My Dearest Life,
I received two of your letters this week which were most acceptable, one without a date, and the last of the 16th of March. By both I see all my letters have miscarry’d, which does not a little vex me. You was not eight days out of Britain when I writ first, and this is the fifth I have writ. I have been so lucky to receive three letters from you, which is no small comfort; but by your not receiving mine you have not drawn for 100 pound I desired you to take from your factor, and that you should be straitened is what I am very much afraid of. Pray doe not want what is fit for you, for I hope in God I shall always have (means) to supply you till I be so happy (as) to see you again, which is what I very much long for; and my absence from you is the only suffering I have, but that I ought to submit to with cheerfulness when you are well and out of danger. I must own the thought of your safety has been a great support to mee, and as to other particulars in my own affairs, the grief and concern I had for others made me very easy about them, and hitherto there has nothing happened in my little affairs that could make me uneasy. I am still in my own house and looking carefully to all things, and am so much of your mind, however dark things may look at present, that both this place and the other (Cambuswallace) may be possesst by you and yours, that I have planted trees this season, and made up all the wants in your hedges, and shall not omit to doe everything that can be for your interest.
Mr. R(ose) labours your own farms this year. As to your debts of all kinds all care has been taken, and as I told you before not one can lose a groat by you so you may be easy. My being so much a stranger to your debts makes it a little uneasy, but a little time will put that over. There is not a thing I doe were it never so trifling, but I consult first whether my friend would approve of this; and I daresay you would if you saw my actings approved of, the most part if not all. Your brother has been twice here, and does in every respect act the part of a kind friend, and does not omit the least thing that can be either useful or agreeable to me.
I send you one enclosed from your mother. She is indeed a kind woman, and tho’ she disapproves what you have done, yet she cannot bear to have you blamed and reflected on, and is as cheerful as ever I saw her, for she thinks there will be favour got one way or other, and the family will be preserved. And she hopes this may be a means to make you serious, which I pray God it may, for afflictions are not sent in vain. I pray earnestly that we may all have the right use of them, and that seeing the uncertainty of all human things we may seek what is more lasting.
I am in hops our two good friends att London will not be in danger. My poor sister writes they have few enemies, and if her spouse is banished she will send for her children to goe with him. There is many gentlemen given up themselves, which I wonder much at. I think they have had no encouragement to do so. Your fellow-travellers will be in their own country again by this time, and a great many of your friends. Poor Polmaise is dead. All your servants are well. Some people think the clans can keep out a year, others are afraid of them. There is no accounts yet since Mr. Beggar went north. Your servant, Andrew S——t, came safe here two months agoe; I writ to you of him before, and desired to know if I should send him to you. If anything can be done for you, it is not fit you be with Kid and Mill; and since you cannot serve them, it’s but a reasonable prudence not to give new provocations. P.C. is att London, and will not fail to doe all that can be done, and your sister Nell’s spouse I hear is much in favour. But they are very violent tho’ I doubt not their good-will to you. Your children are well. There shall be nothing wanting that’s fit for them, and as for their education, I hop you shall do that yourself, for if ever I be put from this place, I’ll come and bring them with me; but I must own I do not expect to leave this place, and I rather think you will be allowed to return, for things cannot always continue, as they have been violent long, so the contrary may now be hoped for.
I blame you much that you do not tell me more of Kid, for I have a great concern for him and great pity. As to my health I am rather better than usual. The season is good, and I am much in the fields, sometimes employed in business, and thinking on the unhappy state of many different people at other times, and reflecting on the mercy’s I daily meet with, which are such as I should never forget, for I am not to be pitied for anything but my being absent from you, which if I suffer patiently God may in a little time give me the comfort of being with you again.
I think you should read much; I will recommend Monsieur Paskal’s Thoughts to you, which I doubt not you will like. Wishing my dear soul all manner of happiness, I am in all sincerity,
Yours.
Your friend Bess salutes you kindly. Pray be so kind to me (as) to take good care of your self, and write frequently when you see I doe not miss one.
Apri. 4.