HOMERTON, 27th Nov. 1838.

My Dearest Mother,--The cake was delicious: it tasted of Blackdeep,
and the cross-over will be most useful. It will keep me warm on
cold days, and the love that came with it will thicken the wool.
But, mother, it is not a month ago since you sent me the stockings.
You are always at work for me. You are just like father. He gave
us things not only on birthdays, but when we never looked out for
them. Do you remember that week when wheat dropped three shillings
a quarter? He had two hundred quarters which he might have sold ten
days earlier. He was obliged to sell them at the next market and
lost thirty pounds, but he had seen at Ely that day a little desk,
and he knew I wanted a desk, and he bought it for me with a fishing-
rod and landing-net for Jim.

My husband said he could not think of anything I needed and wrote me
a cheque for two pounds.

O! that you could come here, and yet I am certain you must not. My
heart aches to have you. In my day-dreams I go over the long miles
to Blackdeep, through Ware, through Royston, through Cambridge,
through every village, and then I feel how far away you are. I
turned out of the room the other day the chair in which you always
sat. I could not bear to see it empty. Charles noticed it had gone
and ordered it to be brought back. He may have suspected the reason
why I put it upstairs. My dearest, dearest mother, never fear that
my affection for you can become less. Sometimes after marriage a
woman loves her mother more than she ever loved her before.

It is a black fog here and not a breath of air is stirring. How