Volume II Part 15 (2/2)

Dearest Phoebe, I enclose an advertis.e.m.e.nt of silks. Aunty 'Ouisa would like to have you get some patterns of those which she has marked with a pencil.

A letter from Mrs. F. Shaw came for thee to-day; and I opened and read it. It contains nothing that requires thy immediate perusal; and as it is rather bulky, I do not send it. She is well, and so is Caroline Sturgis.

I hear great accounts of the canary birds, now exhibiting in Boston; and it seems to me thou mightest please Una very much by taking her to see them.

I need thee very much indeed, and shall heartily thank G.o.d when thou comest back to thine own home--and thine ownest husband. What a wretched time thou art having on that infernal mattress----Truly do I pity thee, cooped up in that hot and dusty house, such a day as this.

Were it not for Dr. Wesselhoeft, I should think it best for thee to get away immediately.

Did Una remember me, when she waked up?--and has little Bundlebreech wanted me?--and dost thou thyself think of me with moderate kindness?

Oh, Phoebe, it is too great a sacrifice--this whole blank month in our wedded life. I want thee always.

THY LOVINGEST SPOUSE.

Mrs. Sophia A. Hawthorne, Care of Dr. N. Peabody, Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

_Salem_, July 18th, 1848

Belovedest, thy letter came yesterday, and caused my heart to heave like an ocean. Thou writest with a pen of celestial fire;--none ever wrote such letters but thou--none is worthy to read them but I--and I only because thou purifiest and exaltest me by thy love. Angels, I doubt not, are well pleased to look over thy shoulder as thou writest.

I verily believe that no mortals, save ourselves, have ever known what enjoyment was. How wonderful that to the pure in spirit all earthly bliss is given in a measure which the voluptuary never can have dreamed of.

Soon--soon--thou wilt be at home. What joy! I count the days, and almost the hours, already. There is one good in our separation--that it has enabled us to estimate whereabouts we are, and what vast progress we have made into the ever-extending infinite of love.

Wherefore, this will not be a blank s.p.a.ce, but a bright one, in our recollection.

Dearest, I told Louisa of thy wish that she should come on Sat.u.r.day; and it seemed that the proposal found favor in her eyes. If not, she will perhaps commission thee to buy her a gown.

Elizabeth came down to see me last evening, and we confabulated till eleven o'clock.

Dora is dying to see thee and the children. The fortune teller has foretold that she is not to marry poor Mr. Hooper, nor anybody else that has been hitherto in question; but a young man, who, Dora says, lives in Boston. She has thorough faith in the prediction.

I forgot to take those two volumes of Cooper's Miles Wallingford; and when I was last in Boston, I looked for them on the shelf in vain. If they may conveniently be had, when thou comest home, wilt thou please to give thyself the trouble of taking them.

Kiss our beloved children for me.

Thou art coming home!--Thou art coming home!

THINE OWNEST HUSBAND.

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