‘Dear old Friend,—My boys are gone back to school: the eldest only yesterday; as, after the funeral, he
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‘There is a business-like beginning, like the poetess who desired to borrow of you.
‘My boys are nice creatures—intelligent, free-spirited, and true; they are so happy at being re-knit to me, that I can scarcely think of it without weeping. Little Brin 1 is brimful of gratitude and love to all who ever loved or were kind to me. He made me walk down to your house, and we stood outside the little iron gate which has so often admitted me for pleasant mornings, for some time, talking of the nightingales, and Milton’s receipt for “Paradise Lost,” and all the treasures in your shut-up house. The elder is quieter, more thoughtful, less spirited, but seems like an angel to me—and his whole care is to keep watch
1 Thomas Brinsley, her second son, born 4th of November, 1831; died 1st of August, 1854. |
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Mr. Norton has a very great love for them I do believe: more than I thought or expected: and young as my eldest boy is, he is allowed the greatest influence over his father’s mind—and uses it with a tenderness and tact very unusual at his age. I think and hope that we shall now be very friendly together, even if we continue apart. Mr. Norton went to the school to desire they would consider me equal with himself and not to be further controlled as to seeing them; to come and go on my own direction. You may believe I have no greater anxiety than to satisfy him now, and prove to him, poor fellow, that it will answer better to allow this peace to fall upon us, than the long warfare did, which is ended. He is very sorry for his little one: and very proud of these two.
‘I have sent a letter of Erin’s to his uncle Brinsley, which I will show you, as I think it very touching—and, indeed, it would be good reading for such men as in anger resolve to break the tie of mother and child. In it he says, “I think I would die of grief if I were parted from you again, you can’t think how changed I am. I love you and my brother ten times more than I used to do—I love you, Papa, and Spencer, beyond anything or person I ever did before.” In the earnestness of his child’s heart—loving all better than ever, for being again in his natural position towards his mother—lies a lesson which, though simply given, is full of truth. I cannot tell you how his letter touched me; I think I feel as he does, that I love everyone better since I received his dear scrawl of affectionate writing.
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‘I hope you are well and that you will be a Broadstairs when you get this, and when I arrive. The Phippses are gone to Ramsgate on account of the child who has been ailing.
‘If I can have one room looking on the sea, of course I should prefer it, and as it is so late in the season perhaps this may be accomplished. My boys will be with me again at Christmas, and then you will let me bring them to you.
‘I have not had one moment to write while they were with me.’