“Dear Son William,—I have received your wife’s kind letter and your children’s. I think they have made great improvement. May they go on and prosper, and be bles’d of god, but that is impossable without prayer and watchfulness against their strong enemys, Satan, the world, and their own depraved hearts. There is much duty lies upon you as a parent. If it was but a few miles of, and I could visit them, and they me, one or two at a time, it would be a pleasure; but as it is, we must content ourselves with now and then hearing of one another. If I live till the time of your Tower into Norfolk, I need not tell you I shall be glad to see you and your wife; but why cannot you attend on Lord’s-day at Guestwick, on such a Judishous man as Mr Sykes. . . . We are all tolerable, Mrs G. in a family way again, your brother very industerous but not strong to labour, Natty much the same. He is unsuccessful in his business, and must seek a jorneyman’s place again. O my trials and difficulties increase! how heavy when so old. I wish Pheby not to come: I cannot help her, nor do I think her aunt Barker can. Young John is, I fear, next to starving; but who can help it? They are taught nothing but pride, so must fall into ruin. My kind love to Mrs Godwin and all your children, and to your sister.—Your ever affectionate mother,
