Boston, Feby. 11th, 1840—7 P.M.
Belovedest,
Your letter, with its assurance of your present convalescence1, and its promise (to which I shall hold you fast) that you will never be sick any more, caused me much joy.... Dearest, George Hillard came in just as I had written the first sentence; so we will begin on a new score.
Your husband has been measuring coal all day, aboard of a black little British schooner2, in a dismal3 dock at the north end of the city. Most of the time, he paced the deck to keep himself warm; for the wind (north-east, I believe it was) blew up through the dock, as if it had been the pipe of a pair of bellows4. The vessel5 lying deep between two wharves6, there was no more delightful7 prospect8, on the right hand and on the left, than the posts and timbers, half immersed in the water, and covered with ice, which the rising and falling of successive tides had left upon them; so that they 138 looked like immense icicles. Across the water, however, not more than half a mile off, appeared the Bunker Hill monument; and what interested me considerably9 more, a church-steeple, with the dial of a clock upon it, whereby I was enabled to measure the march of the weary hours. Sometimes your husband descended10 into the dirty little cabin of the schooner, and warmed himself by a red-hot stove, among biscuit-barrels, pots and kettles, sea-chests, and innumerable lumber11 of all sorts—his olfactories12, meanwhile, being greatly refreshed by the odour of a pipe, which the captain or some of his crew were smoking. But at last came the sunset, with delicate clouds, and a purple light upon the islands; and your husband blessed it, because it was the signal of his release; and so he came home to talk with his dearest wife. And now he bids her farewell, because he is tired and sleepy. God bless you, belovedest. Dream happy dreams of me tonight.
February 12th—Evening.—All day long again, best wife, has your poor husband been engaged in a very black business—as black as a coal; and though his face and hands have undergone a thorough purification, he feels as if he were not altogether fit to hold communion with his white Dove. Methinks my profession is somewhat akin13 to that 139 of a chimney-sweeper; but the latter has the advantage over me, because, after climbing up through the darksome flue of the chimney, he emerges into the midst of the golden air, and sings out his melodies far over the heads of the whole tribe of weary earth-plodders. My dearest, my toil14 today has been cold and dull enough; nevertheless your husband was neither cold nor dull; for he kept his heart warm and his spirit bright with thoughts of his belovedest wife. I had strong and happy yearnings for you to-day, ownest Dove—happy, even though it was such an eager longing15, which I knew could not then be fulfilled, to clasp you to my bosom16. And now here I am in our parlour, aweary—too tired, almost, to write.
Well, dearest, my labors17 are over for the present. I cannot, however, come home just at present, three of the Measurers being now absent; but you shall see me very soon. Naughtiest, why do you say that you have scarcely seen your husband, this winter? Have there not, to say nothing of shorter visits, been two eternities of more than a week each, which were full of blessings18 for us? My Dove has quite forgotten these. Oh, well! If visits of a week long be not worth remembering, I shall alter my purpose of coming to Salem for 140 another like space;—otherwise I might possibly have been there, by Saturday night, at furthest. Dear me, how sleepy I am! I can hardly write, as you will discover by the blottings and scratchings. So good-bye now, darlingest;—and I will finish in the freshness of the morning.
February 13th—Past 8 A.M. Belovedest, how very soon this letter will be in your hands. It brings us much closer together, when the written words of one of us can come to the heart of the other, in the very same day that they flowed from the heart of the writer. I mean to come home to our parlour early to-day; so, when you receive this letter, you can imagine me there, sitting in front of the Isola. I have this moment interrupted myself to go and look at that precious production. How I wish that naughty Sophie Hawthorne could be induced to turn her face towards me! Nevertheless, the figure is her veritable self, and so would the face be, only that she deems it too beauteous to be thrown away on her husband's gaze. I have not dared to kiss her yet. Will she abide19 it?
My dearest, do not expect me very fervently20 till I come. I am glad you were so careful of your inestimable eyes as not to write to me yesterday. Mrs. Hillard says that Elizabeth made her a call. 141 Good-bye. I am very well to day, and unspeakably happy in the thought that I have a dearest little wife, who loves me pretty well. God bless her.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody,
Care of Dr. N. Peabody,
Salem, Mass.
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1
convalescence
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n.病后康复期 | |
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2
schooner
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n.纵帆船 | |
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3
dismal
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adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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4
bellows
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n.风箱;发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的名词复数 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的第三人称单数 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
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vessel
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n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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wharves
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n.码头,停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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7
delightful
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adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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8
prospect
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n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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9
considerably
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adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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10
descended
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a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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11
lumber
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n.木材,木料;v.以破旧东西堆满;伐木;笨重移动 | |
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12
olfactories
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n.嗅觉的( olfactory的名词复数 ) | |
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13
akin
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adj.同族的,类似的 | |
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14
toil
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vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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15
longing
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n.(for)渴望 | |
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16
bosom
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n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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17
labors
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v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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18
blessings
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n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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19
abide
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vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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20
fervently
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adv.热烈地,热情地,强烈地 | |
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