Chapter XXIX: Letter IV: My Dearest Life,

It was no small satisfaction to me in the present
state of affairs to hear you was gone. It is what I shall bless God
for while I live. Your servant’s return was the first account I had;
tho’ my grief was unexpressable the thoughts of your safety did
mitigate it very much. It was impossible but you did foresee what
wold happen when I was with you, and if you did, you were much to
blame not (to) tell me your thoughts of itt, and what methods should
be taken for your private affairs. Charles is here just now and most
kindly offers to doe all in his power, as I doubt not all your other
friends will; but he expected I wold have had a method from you.
Whether you did not imagin so suden an end, or would not give mee a
sore heart befor the time, I know not.

Now let me beg of you, as you regard me and your children, not to
have any uneasy thoughts about us. I am not afraid of want of sober
bread for them and myself; but as I told you the thoughts of your
being in pinches is very Bitter, and the prospect I must have of
being absent from you for some time, and perhaps for ever, is what
imploys my thoughts night and day. But why should I complain of what
God in his wise providence has ordered as a just punishment for the
abuse of many mercys. Let us then, my Dearest, submit with patience,
and trust in that mercyful Father who has hitherto preserv’d you
from so imminent dangers, that He will, in His own good time, give
us a comfortable meeting, and to live as becomes the children of
affliction, in endeavouring to set our hearts above the world and the
vanitys thereof.

I am most impatient to hear from you, and if ye knew what a relief it
wold be to have a letter, you wold (have) writ the moment you landed.
The person mine is directed to wold find a way to send one to me. I
was heartily sorry you was not better provided with money, but if
you please to take 100 pound from Mr. Gordon, and make him draw on
his correspondent at Edinr., I shall endeavour to have it ready on
some day’s sight. I am to beg (you) earnestly to let me know what
resolution you have taken as to the place of your abode, and not to
be sudden in resolving, but to let me know what you intend, and I hop
as you regard my quiet you will not doe anything till you have my
consent. I must see what shape things will take here, before I can
frame a resolution of seeing you.... There was a great consternation
amongst your freinds att the departure of two great men that followed
you, and I find the not acquainting them with it is thought hard. I
hear they keep still together, but that cannot doe long, God help
them! You are lucky in your misfortune that you have kind freinds
that are both willing and capable to serve you, and I am hopeful by
their means to be in a better state than many others, which is great
deal more than we deserve.

Now let me again beg of you to writ freely to me, and tell me every
uneasy thought you have, and make youself as easy as possible, and
put in practice the virtue of resignation which you have so often
talkt of to me. The more frequently you writ I will be the easyer.
Your children are well, but poor B. is in great affliction for her
brother and talks of leaveing me. Charls and all freinds here salute
you, and I am, my Dearest, Life,
Yours,

Fe. 13.

I must say Charls makes all the kind offers to me that you
can imagine.