its.

Still as you talk of your return, even in February, doubtingly, I have
determined, the moment the weather changes, to wean my child.--It is too
soon for her to begin to divide sorrow!--And as one has well said,
"despair is a freeman," we will go and seek our fortune together.

This is not a caprice of the moment--for your absence has given new
weight to some conclusions, that I was very reluctantly forming before
you left me.--I do not chuse to be a secondary object.--If your feelings
were in unison with mine, you would not sacrifice so much to visionary
prospects of future advantage.

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER XXXIII.

Jan. 15.

I WAS just going to begin my letter with the fag end of a song, which
would only have told you, what I may as well say simply, that it is
pleasant to forgive those we love. I have received your two letters,
dated the 26th and 28th of December, and my anger died away. You can
scarcely conceive the effect some of your letters have produced on me.
After longing to hear from you during a tedious interval of suspense, I
have seen a superscription written by you.--Promising myself pleasure,
and feeling emotion, I have laid it by me, till the person who brought
it, left the room--when, behold! on opening it, I have found only half a
dozen hasty lines, that have damped all the rising affection of my soul.

Well, now for business--
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- -- --

My animal is well; I have not yet taught her to eat, but nature is doing
the business. I gave her a crust to assist the cutting of her teeth; and
now she has two, she makes good use of them to gnaw a crust, biscuit, &c.
You would laugh to see her; she is just like a little squirrel; she will
guard a crust for two hours; and, after fixing her eye on an object for
some time, dart on it with an aim as sure as a bird of prey--nothing can
equal her life and spirits. I suffer from a cold; but it does not affect
her. Adieu! do not forget to love us--and come soon to tell us that you
do.

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER XXXIV.

Jan. 30.

FROM the purport of your last letters, I would suppose that this will
scarcely reach you; and I have already written so many letters, that you
have either not received, or neglected to acknowledge, I do not find it
pleasant, or rather I have no inclin