[Postmark: July 23, 1846]
R. B. to E. B. B.
Wednesday.
I have just returned from Town and Mr. Kenyon’s, my
own Ba. I called, according to compact, to point out the
precise way he must go to reach us. He seemed to make sure
I was going to Wimpole Street — ‘ Oh, no ! ‘
So, losing Wimpole Street, I made haste home, and gain
my letter, — my dear letter : yesterday night, too, the first
letter arrived duly — you perfect in kindness !
My dearest — dearest, — you might go to Pisa without
shoes, — or feet to wear them, for aught I know, since you
may have wings, only folded away from me — but without your
Wilson, or some one in her capacity, you . . no, I will not
undertake to speak of you ; then, I, should be simply, exactly,
INSANE to move a step ; I would rather propose, let us live
on bread and water, and sail in the hold of a merchant-ship ;
THIS CANNOT be dispensed with ! It is most fortunate, most
providential, that Wilson is inclined to go — I am very
happy ; for a new servant, with even the best dispositions,
would never be able to anticipate your wants and wishes
during the voyage, at the very beginning. Yet you write of
this to me so, my Ba ! I think I will, in policy, begin the
anger at a good place. Yes, all the anger I am capable of
descends on the head — (not in kisses, whatever you may
fancy).
And so poor Flush suffered after all ! Dogs that are
dog-like would be at no such pains to tell you they would
not see you with comfort approached by a stranger who
might be — ! A ‘muzzle’? oh, no, — but suppose you have
him removed next time, and perhaps the next, till the whole
occurrence is out of his mind as the fly bite of last week
— because, if he sees me and begins his barking and valiant
snapping, and gets more and heavier vengeance downstairs,
perhaps, — his transient suspicion of me will confirm itself
into absolute dislike, hatred, whereas, after an interval, we
can renew acquaintance on a better footing. Dogs have
such memories ! My sister told me last week she saw in a
provincial newspaper an anecdote of one, — a miller’s dog,
that was a good fellow in the main, but chose to take an
especial dislike to one of his master’s customers, whom he
invariably flew at and annoyed — so much so that the man
declared he must carry his custom elsewhere unless the dog
was parted with : this the miller was unwilling to do ; so he
hit on an expedient — by some contrivance, the dog was
suffered to fall into a deep well, and bark himself hoarse
there in vain — no help came — till the obnoxious individual
arrived, let himself down and brought up the prisoner.
From which time nothing could exceed the devotion of the
dog to his rescuer ; whom he always insisted henceforth on
accompanying as far as his home, for one instance of it.
I wonder whether I have anywhere one of the sketches
my father made of my bulldog’s face.
What ‘ tired ‘ you, dearest ? You are not less well, I
trust ? Pray tell me, — and remember there are three days
before our Saturday. I am very much better — the walking
and riding of this morning did me good, too — and what
profits it, if you are not better also ? Love me in caring for
yourself, which is my truest self! And I will go on and
try to love you more than I do — for what may happen ?
Ever your own R.