Sport 42: 2014
My Dearest Emma
My Dearest Emma,
My own dear how it did make me cry
to read of your going to Annie’s garden for a flower.
Our poor child has been fearfully ill;
as ill as a human being could be,
you would not in the least recognise her,
her poor hard, sharp pinched features.
I could only bear to look at her by forgetting
our former dear Annie;
here is nothing in common between the two.
She has not had wine, but several spoon-fulls of broth,
& ordinary physic of camphor & ammonia—
Dr Gully is most confident there is strong hope.
*
I am assured Annie is several degrees better.
This morning she is a shade too hot,
but the Dr thinks her going on very well.
*
You must not suppose her out of great danger.
She keeps the same; just this minute she opened her mouth
quite distinctly for gruel—& said that is enough.
She has slept most tranquilly almost all afternoon,
perhaps too tranquilly.
We have bathed her again with vinegar.
*
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An hour ago I was foolish with delight,
pictured her to myself making custards
(whirling round) as, I think, she called them.
I told her I thought she would be better
& she so meekly said thank you.
*
Poor Annie is in a fearful mess,
but we keep her sweet with Chloride of Lime;
she asked for orange this morning,
the first time she has asked for anything except water.
*
3 o’clock. She is going on very nicely
& sleeping capitally
with breathing quite slow.
*
We have changed the lower sheet,
cut off the tail of her chemy.
She looks quite nice.
Got her bed flat & a little pillow
between her two bony knees.
She is certainly now going on very well.
*
A low and dreadful fever.
Poor dear little Annie.
It is all over.
We must be
more and more to each other,
my dear wife.