DEAR PIKE,--I should have written to you long since, acknowledging the
receipt of your gin, and in answer to your letter, but I have been
very busy with my pen. As to the gin, I cannot speak of its quality,
for the bottle has not yet been opened, and will probably remain
corked until cold weather, when I mean to take an occasional sip. I
really thank you for it, however; nor could I help shedding a few
quiet tears over that which was so uselessly spilt by the expressman.
The most important news I have to tell you (if you have not already
heard it) is, that we have another daughter, now about two months old.
She is a very bright and healthy child, and neither more nor less
handsome than babies generally are. I think I feel more interest in
her than I did in the other children at the same age, from the
consideration that she is to be the daughter of my age--the comfort
(at least, so it is to be hoped) of my declining years--the last child
whom I expect or intend to have. What a sad account you give of your
solitude, in your letter! I am not likely ever to have the feeling of
loneliness which you express; and I most heartily wish that you would
take measures to remedy it in your own case, by marrying Miss
Brookhouse or somebody else as soon as possible. If I were at all in
the habit of shedding tears, I should have felt inclined to do so at
your description of your present situation; without family, and
estranged from your former friends.
Whenever you feel it quite intolerable (and I can hardly help wishing
that it may become so soon), do come to me.
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