Take cod-liver oil, and, at all events, grow fat.

November 24th 1858

Dearest wife,

Your letter by the steamer of the 19th has come and has given me delight far beyond what I can tell thee. There never were such letters in the world as thine; but this, no doubt, I have already told thee over and over. What pleasantly surprises me is, that the beauty of thy hand-writing has all come back, in these Lisbon letters, and they seem precisely the same, in that respect, that my little virgin Dove used to write me.

Before this reaches thee, thou wilt have received the trunks by the Cintra, and also, the sad news of the death of O'Sullivan's brother. I shall wait with the utmost anxiety for thy next letter. Do not thou sympathise too much. Thou art wholly mine, and must not overburthen thyself with anybody s grief not even that of thy dearest friend next to me. I wish I could be with thee.

I am impatient for thee to be well. Thou shouldst not trust wholly to the climate, but must take medical advice in Lisbon, if it is to be had otherwise, Dr. Wilkinson's. Do take cod-liver oil. It is the only thing I ever really had any faith in; and thou wilt not take it. Thou dost confess to growing thin. Take cod-liver oil, and, at all events, grow fat.

I suppose this calamity of the O'Sullivans will quite shut them up from the world, at present.

Julian thrives, as usual. He has lately been out to dine with a boy of about his own age, in the neighborhood. His greatest daily grievance is, that he is not allowed to have his dinner at 5 1/2 , with the rest of the family, but dines at one, and sups alone at our dinner time. He never has anything between meals, unless it be apples. I believe I told thee, in my last, that I had given up
the thought of sending him to school, for the present. It would be so great and hazardous a change, in the whole system of his life, that I do not like to risk it as long as he continues to do well. The intercourse which he holds with the people of Mrs. Blodgett s seems to me of a healthy kind. They make a playmate of him, to a certain extent, but do him no mischief; whereas, the best set of boys in the world would infallibly bring him harm as well as good. His manners improve, and I do not at all despair of seeing him grow up a gentleman. It is singular how completely all his affections of the head have disappeared; and that, too, with out any prescriptions from Dr. Dryasdust. I encourage him to make complaints of his health, rather than the contrary; but he always declares himself quite well. The difficulty heretofore has been, I think, that he had grown morbid for want of a wider sphere.

Miss Williams is very unwell, and, for the last two or three days, has had several visits from the Doctor; being confined to her bed, and in great pain. I don t know what her disorder is; but she is
excessively nervous, and is made ill by anything that agitates her. The rumor of war with America confined her for several days.

Give my most affectionate regards to the O'Sullivans.

I never felt half so grateful to anybody, as I do to them, for the care they take of thee. It would make a summer climate of Nova Zembla, to say nothing of Lisbon.

THINE OWNEST,

P.S. I enclose the gold dollar.

an indespensable and unexpected engagement

Boston, Novr. 15th [1858] -- very late

Dearest and best wife, I meant to have written you a long letter this evening; but an indispensable and unexpected engagement with Gen. M Neil has prevented me. Belovedest, your yesterday's letter was received; and gave me infinite comfort. Yet, Oh. be prepared for the worst if this may be called worst -- which is in truth best for all and more than all for George. I cannot help trembling for you, dearest. God bless you and keep you.

I will write a full letter in a day or two. Meantime, as your husband is to rise with peep of day tomorrow, he must betake him to his mattress. Good night dearest.

Your Ownest

this remorseless grey, with its icy heart

November 2nd 1858

The weather lately would have suited one's ideal of an English November, except that there have been no fogs; but of ugly, hopeless clouds, chill, shivering winds, drizzle, and now and then pouring rain, much more than enough. An English coal-fire, if we could see its honest face within doors, would compensate for all the unamiableness of the outside atmosphere; but we might ask for the sunshine of the New Jerusalem, with as much hope of getting it. It is extremely spiritcrushing, this remorseless grey, with its icy heart; and the more to depress the whole family, U--- has taken what seems to be the Roman fever, by sitting down in the Palace of the Caesars, while Mrs. S---- sketched the ruins.