‘My dear Mr. Rogers,—So long a time has elapsed since I had the pleasure of hearing particularly from you, that I cannot refrain from writing to inquire and to repeat the assurances of my vivid and affectionate remembrance. The public papers of our land conveyed the intelligence of your having sustained some injury by a fall from your carriage, and by various friends who have persuaded me to give them an introductory line that they might look upon your face, I have received occasional descriptions. But these are not sufficient to satisfy me, and if it should be fatiguing to you to write, will you have the goodness to direct some other pen to give me more particular statements of your health and welfare? You may not have been so fully aware as the friends in my native land, of the peculiarly deep interest and veneration I cherished for you, from our first meeting; and that to none of the distinguished literary characters in your realm, from whom I received undeserved attentions, does my heart turn with an equally fervent regard.
‘Perhaps you have not known what a deep sorrow has fallen upon me, the death of my only son, the “apple of my eye,” who fell in the bloom of nineteen, a victim to that foe of the young and beautiful, consumption. You will forgive me, that I send you a few mournful verses on the leaf of a periodical.
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‘One jewel remains in the maternal heart’s rifled casket, his gentle sister. I have sometimes thought of taking her across the ocean, for a short summer excursion, as the avails of my writings would permit of such an indulgence. Should I decide to do so, might we hope for an interview with you? One of my chief objects in going would be to see you and to show you to her; for Wordsworth, and Miss Baillie, and Miss Edgeworth, whom I loved, are no longer there to take me by the hand.
‘An interesting anniversary has recently occurred in my native city (Norwich), the hundredth birthday of a valued friend of my own blessed father. They were born in the same year; but one left us at the age of 88, with unfrosted hair, and an elastic step; the other remains, with an ear quick to hear, and a calm enjoyment of all life’s comforts, though for the past few months his limbs have declined their accustomed services. His intellect is wholly undimmed, and on his centennial morning he received a levée of some two hundred friends, with much satisfaction and apparently without physical exhaustion.
‘Hoping that I may not have wearied your patience with this long epistle, and requesting soon to have the privilege of hearing from you,
‘I remain yours, with true and affectionate regard,
