June 3d.—Cannot write my Travels, or give one half hours close attention to them, upon Thy Acct. my dearest friend—Yet write I must, & what to do with You, whilst I write—I declare I know not—I want to have you ever before my Imagination—& cannot keep you out of my heart or head—In short thou enterst my Library Eliza! (as thou one day shalt) without tapping—or sending for—by thy own Right of ever being close to thy Bramine—now I must shut you out sometimes—or meet you Eliza! with an empty purse upon the Beach—pity my entanglements from other passions—my Wife with me every moment of the Summer—think wt. restraint upon a Fancy that should Sport & be in all points at its ease—O had I, my dear Bramine this Summer, to soften—& modulate my feelings—to enrich my fancy, & fill my heart brim full with bounty—my Book wd. be worth the reading—
It will be by stealth if I am able to go on with my Journal at all—It will have many Interruptions—& Heyho’s! most sentimentally utter’d—Thou must take it as it pleases God.—as thou must take the Writer—eternal Blessings be about You Eliza! I am a little better, & now find I shall be set right in all points—my only anxiety is about You—I want to prescribe for you My Eliza—for I think I understand yr. Case better than all the Faculty. adieu—adieu.
June 4.
Hussy!—I have employ’d a full hour upon yr. sweet sentimental Picture—and a couple of hours upon yourself—& with as much kind friendship, as the hour You left me—I deny it—Time lessens no Affections wch. honour & merit have planted—I wd. give more, and hazard more now for your happiness than in any one period, since I first learn’d to esteem you—is it so with thee my friend? has absence weakened my Interest—has time worn out any Impression—or is Yoricks name less Musical in Eliza’s ears?—my heart smites me, for asking the question—’tis Treason agst. thee Eliza and Truth—Ye are dear Sisters, and yr. Brother Bramin Can never live to see a Separation amongst Us.—What a similitude in our Trials whilst asunder!—Providence has order’d every Step better, than we could have order’d them,—for the particular good we wish each other—This you will comment upon & find the Sense of without my explanation.
I wish this Summer & Winter wth. all I am to go through with in them, in business & Labour & Sorrow, well over—I have much to compose—& much to discompose me—have my Wife’s projects—& my own Views arising out of them, to harmonize and turn to account—I have Millions of heart aches to suffer & reason with—& in all this Storm of Passions, I have but one small Anchor, Eliza! to keep this weak Vessel of mine from perishing—I trust all I have to it—as I trust Heaven, which cannot leave me, without a fault, to perish.—may the same just Heaven my Eliza, be that eternal Canopy wch. shall shelter thy head from evil till we meet—Adieu—adieu—adieu.
June 5.
I sit down to write this day, in good earnest—so read Eliza! quietly besides me—I’ll not give you a Look—except one of kindness—dear Girl! if thou lookest so bewitching once more—I’ll turn thee out of my Study—You may bid me defiance, Eliza.—You cannot conceive how much & how universally I’m pitied, upon the Score of this unexpected Visit from france—my friends think it will kill me—If I find myself in danger I’ll fly to you to Bombay—will Mr. Draper receive me?—he ought—but he will never know what reasons make it his Interest and Duty—We must leave all all to that Being who is infinitely removed above all Straitness of heart ... & is a friend to the friendly, as well as to the friendless.