To Emma Darwin   [3–4 February 1845]¹

My dear Wife

Now for my day’s annals— In the morning I was baddish, & did hardly any work & was as much overcome by my children, as ever Bishop Coplestone² was with Duck.³ But the children have been very good all day, & I have grown a good deal better this afternoon, & had a good romp with Baby—⁴ I see, however, very little of the Blesseds— The day was so thick & wet a fog, that none of them went out, though a thaw & not very cold; I had a long pace in the Kitchen Garden: Lewis⁵ came up to mend the pipe & paper the W.C. in which apartment there was a considerable crowd for about an hour, when M^r Lewis & his son William, Willy Annie, Baby & Bessy⁶ were there. Baby insisted on going in, I daresay, greatly to the disturbance of Bessy’s delecacy— Lewis from first dinner to second dinner was a first-rate dispensary, as they never left him— They, also, dined in the Kitchen, and I believe have had a particularly pleasant day.—

I was playing with Baby in the window of the drawing-room this morning, & she was blowing a feeble fly (fry) & blew it on its back, when it kicked so hard, that to my great amusement Baby grew red in the face, looked frightened & pushed away from the window.— The children are growing so quite out of all rule in the drawing-room, jumping on everything & butting like young bulls at every chair & sofa, that I am going to have the dining-room fire lighted tomorrow & keep them out of the drawing-room. I declare a months such wear, w^d spoil every thing in the whole drawing-room.—

I read Whately’s Shakspeare⁷ & very ingenious & interesting it is—and what do you think Mitford’s Greece⁸ has made me begin, the Iliad by Cowper,⁹ which we were talking of; & have read 3 books with much more pleasure, than I anticipated.— I have given up acids & gone to puddings again.—

Tuesday morning— I am impatient for your letter this morning to hear how you got on.— I asked Willy how Baby has slept & he answered “she did not cry not one mouthful”. My stomach is baddish again this morning & I almost doubt, whether I will go to London, tomorrow; if I do you won’t hear. Poor Annie has had a baddish knock by Willie’s ball in her eye.—it is swelled a bit, but not otherwise bad.

C. D.

Your cap cannot ⁠⟨⁠be⁠⟩⁠ found anywhere: Jane says you took one. $\frac{9}{10}$ of the snow is gone & the children are going out. Very many thanks for your letter¹⁰