Chapter XLII: Letter XII

I received one from my Dearest Life of the 17 Ap. which was most
acceptable. I am sorry you should be in such pain and uneasyness by
your not hearing from me, and I should never forgive myself if I had
occasioned it by my neglect, but I assure myself you will not think
me capable of omitting anything than can contribute to your quiet.
This is the tenth letter I have writ and all different hands, in
hops some wold be so lucky (as) to come your length. I have had the
pleasure of getting all yours, which I reckon no small mercy. I have
told you in all my letters to be easy about me and your children;
wee have what is necessare for us, and I have good ground to think
will always have; let things come to the worst we will have enough
and what we ought to be content with, in so general a calamity. My
greatest suffering is being absent from you; but when I think upon
the danger and imprisonment of many others, some of (them) my good
friends, I dare not complain. I must own your being at freedom and
out of the hands of your enemies, has supported me under the many
difficultys, and if you are well and easy in your mind, I shall
endeavour to submit chearfully to whatever God in his providence
shall order; and very often the fears of what may happen is greater
than the suffering itself, as I doubt not is the case with the
most part of the distrest people at this time. The delay and the
uncertainty occasions the most dreadful apprehensions their fancy can
suggest. Tho’ at other times I was too ready to put the dark side of
the cloud to my view, yet I think it’s impossible things can long
continue in so violent a way. I doe very much regret the suffering of
Kid and your freind, and of all the rest in generall; but God in his
wise providence has ordered it, and his visible hand in disappointing
all our hops should make us wait his time with patience, and
indeavour to make the best use of so great afflictions, which is most
justly sent us as a punishment for our many faults and abuses of many
mercys; and if this thought would make us live better lives, it’s
very probable our time of suffering might be shortened.

I am still at home managing after the old manner, have labour’d both
your farms, and getting in rents, tho’ with great difficulty. There
is nothing omitted that can be done for your interest, and I am very
lucky in two freinds who do all for me that’s in their power.

You are not yet attainted, and I hop will not be this session of
Parlyment; but I am afraid if you continue in that place where you
are now it will make them more violent, and tho’ your being in
another place will not be so agreeable to you, yet I persuade myself
you will cross your own inclination since you can do your friends no
service, and may ruin your family. I doe not let anybody know where
you are because I have some hop, with the help of Dr. Robin, your
brother, and his master, to get your pardon, that you may be allowed
to come home and live quietly. I believe the first thoughts of this
kind will be very disagreeable to you; but consider mee and your
children and every particular circumstance, and then I am sure you
must be of my mind. This is the opinion of those friends that did not
condemn your going out, and have your interest as much at heart as
their own. I wold not wish you to doe a mean or dishonorable thing,
and I am sure were it fit to be free with Kid and Mill in every
particular they wold desire you to accept, if ever that pardon could
be obtained by your freinds. Pray, write freely to me your opinion in
this particular, for I have greater fears you will not accept than
that itt will not be obtain’d, and if you are positive against itt I
will never attempt itt. I heard from London you was gone a message to
Spain, but they must always be talking.

I am doeing no work without doors just now. All our plowing is over
some weeks agoe, and our work is all laid aside except such as is in
and about the House. I have planted trees this season, and design to
plant them in the latter season.

Your children are just such as you wold wish them, very good-humor’d.
I am getting one to teach them. They have both the chincoch, but I
hop the worst is over. My friend, Bess, has left me. Your mother is
here just now; she is very concern’d about you, but has no such fears
for the family as I have seen her have for a trifle.

I cannot yet have any vein how or what way I am to doe; but if once
things were settled, if you doe not get home, I will certainly come
to you and bring my young folks with me, which will not doe so well
as that I mention in the other side. In the meantime, hope the best,
take good care of yourself, and let me hear frequently from you.

I writ in all my letters to make your factor draw for money on his
correspondent at Edinr. for your use. I hop I shall have to supply
you what you have use for. As to your servants, they have all been
here since you left the country, and Andrew came safe, so you need
not be uneasy. As to your debts of all kinds, due care is taken that
no body lose by you, and nobody can lose a grott. I wish everybody
had the same mitigations of their sufferings that I have; but the
hearing of the necessities of others, and not being in a condition to
help them, touches me very sensibly, which makes me wish I could be
far from hearing itt. Wishing you all manner of happyness, I am, my
Dearest, in all sincerity, Yours.

May 14.