RTIMER STREET, Thursday, 20th, 1845.
MY DEAREST HARRIET,

There is another thing that makes me pause about coming to Hastings--the
time for my departure for America will be drawing very near when I
return to town on Monday from Mrs. Grote's, which is the only visit that
I shall have it in my power to pay....

Tuesday is the 25th. I must see my brother John again before I go. This
will take two days and one night, and my father talks of going down to
Liverpool on the 2nd or 3rd, so that I could only run down to Hastings
for a few miserable hours, again to renew all the pain of bidding you
another farewell....

I left off here to get my breakfast. We have lowered the price and the
quality of our tea, in consequence of which, you see, my virtue and
courage are also deteriorated [Miss S---- used to say that a cup of good
tea was _virtue_ and _courage_ to her], and this is why I feel I had
perhaps better not come to Hastings.

Thus far, my dearest Harriet, when your letter of the 19th--yesterday
(you see I did look at the date)--was brought to me. It is certainly
most miserable to consider what horrible things men contrive to make of
the mutual relations which might be so blest. I do not know if I am
misled by the position from which I take my observations, but it seems
to me that one of the sins most rife in the world is the _mis_use, or
_dis_use, of the potent and tender ties of relationship and kindred.

With regard to coming to you, my dear Hal, I am much perplexed. I have
made Mrs. Grote enter into arrangements to suit me, which I do not think
I ought now to ask her to alter. Old Rogers is going down to Burnham, to
be with me there, going and coming with me; and with what I feel I ought
and must do to see my brother, I know not what I can and may do to see
you, my dear friends. I am full of care and trouble and anxiety, and
feel so weary with all the processes of thinking and feeling,
deliberating and deciding, that I am going through, that I must beg you
to determine for me. If you, upon due consideration, say "Come," I will
come. And forgive me that I put it thus to you, but I have a sense of
mental incapacity, amounting almost to imbecility; and I feel, every now
and then, as if my brain machinery was running down, and would presently
stop altogether. Seriously, what with the greater and the less, the
unrest of body and the disquiet of mind, I feel occasionally all but
distracted....

I will write you more w