Volume 1, Letter 18
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17981798

People :
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Author : Mary Wollstonecraft

Text :
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H—, Thursday Morning, March 12.

We are such creatures of habit, my
love, that, though I cannot say I was
sorry, childishly so, for your going,
when I knew that you were to stay such
a short time, and I had a plan of employment;
yet I could not sleep.—I
turned to your side of the bed, and
tried to make the most of the comfort
of the pillow, which you used to tell
me I was churlish about; but all would
not do.—I took nevertheless my walk
before breakfast, though the weather
was not very inviting—and here I am,
wishing you a finer day, and seeing you
peep over my shoulder, as I write, with
one of your kindest looks—when your
eyes glisten, and a suffusion creeps over
your relaxing features.

But I do not mean to dally with you
this morning—So God bless you! Take
care of yourself—and sometimes fold to
your heart your affectionate

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     From : Gutenberg.org

Events :
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     Volume 1, Letter 18 -- Publication : November 30, 1797

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