“Your letter, as you may supposed is one of the highest interest to me, as affording a perfect picture of your present state of mind and feelings; and it is also satisfactory.
“However much the separation may have been anticipated, or, for her sake, even desirable, I am not at all surprised that you feel the sense of bereavement as you do at this moment, or that your recollection rather reverts to her in her happier days than in the last few years of sickness and helplessness. It is quite natural, and the period for such recollections will run its course, to be succeeded by a tender, a cherished, and in its effects a most consolatory feeling.
“If you and I had not resembled each other in some material points, we could not have maintained an unbroken intimacy for five and forty years, and when I speak from observation and experience of myself, I speak for you also. I may therefore on these grounds say that I believe few men have preserved the youth of their minds as long as we have. For my own part I am truly grateful for this, for I consider such a possession as one of Heaven’s best blessings, inasmuch as it affords a protection against the evils of life, and, like youth of body, contains an elastic power of resistance to every blow, and encourages the spring and growth of hope in the very depth of misfortune. My dear Southey, I have no hesitation in believing that in due time you will again be such as you have been. You have great and happy means within your own reach for attaining this desirable state, in the society of your own excellent children, with whom you have ever lived so much like a brother, that I cannot believe the difference in your mutual years can create any strong line of demarcation between you. You will now consider them with (if possible) increased love, and they will look to you with more reverent affection. Surely these must operate to break down the bar which difference of years might else interpose between you, to prevent that perfect intercourse and fellow-feeling which will constitute so much of your happiness and theirs. Recollection will operate to strengthen the tie on both sides. I have often called to mind the last act of my dear father’s life that displayed consciousness, and always with such pleasure as I look for for you. Henry and I were standing on each side of the bed, with one of his hands in each of ours. He had long lain quite still, and only breathed, when to our joint surprise he lifted one, the disabled arm, and brought our two hands in union across his
