Eaton.
Monday 21st. October | 1833.
I cannot tell you, my dear Charles, how very glad I was to see your
handwriting once again, your nice long letter reached me about 10 days ago,
& two or three days before your Family received any of your despatches.
I was very proud to be able, condescendingly to assure them that their Brother
was quite well, & had written to me — What a long time my
letter took to travel to you, that Valparaiso Post is certainly a very slow
one, & though you see I lose no time in answering your letter, how many months
must elapse before it reaches you!!— I do not like to think of your distance
from all of us, I will only look forward to your return, which according to your
promises & my calculations cannot be delayed more than two years from this time,
& about December 1835, I shall expect every rap at the door of
No. 1. Belgrave Street, will produce the celebrated South American
Traveller & Naturalist, & that he will graciously condescend to dine;
& then accompany the poor ignorant natives to the Play— You are very
kind to make so many enquiries after my health, the Owen Constitution has at last shewn
itself worthy of its former reputation, & I am now quite myself again, but
indeed till within the last three months, I have never known what it was to be quite
well. I have at last turned over a new leaf, & hope never to relapse into my old
ways again— I wish I could say as much for Fanny, who is very far from well.
She suffers sadly from Ague in her head, which she has had for many months, but as she
is now under your Father's care, I have no doubt he will soon set her on her legs
again— She is now at Chirk—where she leads but a melancholy life
with her old Mother in Law— We remained in London this year till the beginning
of September, & are now comfortably settled at Eaton till (I hope) the end of
January. Emma was with me all the Year in London; she is now a Young Lady, full
fledged so grown & improved, you would hardly know her—
Woodhouse certainly is an altered place, though Caroline exerts herself wonderfully
& has gained much spirit since she came to her title. Francis is still
at home, waiting for a commission, & Charles & Henry at school at
Mr Burd's— Baby is grown almost a big Girl, & quite
the Governor's right hand. I do not know what would become of him without her,
& she completely manages the Family, though she is wonderfully good, &
does not presume on her influence— Of course Susan & Cath—
have written you a circumstantial account of their London expedition this Spring with
Mr. & Mrs. Harry Wedgwood. Catherine's passion
for Pasta still continues in full-force, & as Harry Wedgwood said, they
all agreed to act upon the intensely selfish principle, & each go their
own way. I don't think they spent more than two Evenings at home during their stay in
Town, & enjoyed every thing exceedingly— Has Susan let you into any of
her Secrets respecting Mr. Panting, who of course you know, she has
certainly behaved very cruelly to him, in spite of all we ventured to say to
her, for we thought him a very nice person, & I have no doubt she would have
been very happy, but now it seems all at an end, & ``bygones must be
bygones''— if Susan has not told you anything herself, pray do not mention my
having done so, but I cannot resist mentioning it to you, as you remember we have held
many confidential conversations together, in our walks in the Forest, &
scrawls
on the wall— I very very often think of you, & the merry days
we have passed together, & when you return, you will find Sarah Owen
unchanged I assure you, though Catherine says ``it's wonderful what excellent
Wives those Owen's make''— I am as happy as possible, & am convinced
that as long as I live, I shall never have reason to repent the rash step I
took on the 22d. November 1831—now nearly
2 years ago— I have a ``very proper influence'', (which we used to
talk of) though I think you will most likely hear me pronounce Shrewsbury like the
e in Shrew, this we settled was to be the criterion of my proper
influence, & I own I have not shewn the Owen spirit in this one
instance— Of course you have heard of Louisa Leighton's marriage, the Quarry
Place party seem much pleased with it, but as you know I never did admire
either of ``those fond Hopes'' tho' I think Louisa's better than the Beetle
Hunter. the happy pair are now wintering in Italy, & I heard a very
good & true story of them the other day— They were travelling
in Germany, & arrived at a Town, which they walked about all day, & at
last sat down to dinner at the Table d'Hote— in the course of conversation,
Mr. Hope observed to his next neighbour that he ``hoped to get to
Heidelburg the following day,'' when his Friend exclaimed in astonishment, ``Why, you
are now there,'' & it seems they had inspected the whole Town, without
discovering where they were— This does not speak much for the
brightness of the Hopes — Clare is very flourishing, I
hear of no match for her— That ``rising star of Ton'' Matty Cotton is
to astonish the County by her appearance at the Hunt. We are at present at Daggers
drawn with her, as she chose lately to abuse all of us shamefully,
& tell dreadful stories. I think the Feud will never end, though
Dr. Darwin strongly recommends a Truce being concluded for
2 years— I have not rode much lately, but I have a very nice horse of
my own— I have taken violently to gardening, & work very hard in the
Garden here, which is much improved & looks very pretty indeed— Do
pray write to me again; my dear Charles. I am sure you would do so by return
of Post, if you knew the pleasure it gives me to hear from you—always
direct to Belgrave St. as even if I am not there, the letter
will be forwarded to me— If you capture any Poll Parrots or other
bird or beast, you may forward them to me, even the smallest monkey will be
thankfully received, but I suppose you despise such common things, & do not
admit them into the Darwin Museum— I laughed much at your description of your
long beard &c, but I think you seem tolerably comfortable, & I hope
& trust you have never repented your voyage, or leaving the Land of your
Fathers— I am going to send this dull effusion to Catherine to enclose in a
packet she tells me she is to despatch to you tomorrow, I wish I could have sent you a
more entertaining letter, but what can you expect from a stupid old married
Woman like myself— I shall live in hopes of hearing again from you. Edward
tells me to send his best remembrances to you, he wonders what I can find to tell you,
to spin out so long a letter— God bless you, my dear Charles, I hope this may
find you as well & happy as it leaves me. Believe me always your affectionate
old Friend | Sarah—
I will write whenever I hear of an opportunity. I hope you will do
likewise—
