Faraday to Sarah Faraday   28 July 1822

Marino: Sunday, July 28, 1822.

My dearly beloved Wife, - I have just read your letter again, preparatory to my writing to you, that my thoughts might be still more elevated and quickened than before. I could almost rejoice at my absence from you, if it were only that it has produced such an earnest and warm mark of affection from you as that letter. Tears of joy and delight fell from my eyes on its perusal. I think it was last Sunday evening, about this time, that I wrote to you from London; and I again resort to this affectionate conversation with you, to tell you what has happened since the letter which I got franked from this place to you on Thursday I believe.

You can hardly imagine how rejoiced I was to get your letter. You will have found by this time how much I expected it, and it came almost to a moment. As soon as I entered the breakfast-room Mr. Vivian gave it to me. Blessings on you, my girl; and thanks, a thousand thanks to you for it.

We have been working very hard here at the copper works, and with some success¹. Our days have gone on just as before. A walk before breakfast; then breakfast; then to the works till four or five o’clock, and then home to dress, and dinner. After dinner, tea and conversation. I have felt doubly at a loss to-day, being absent from both the meeting² and you. When away from London before, I have had you with me, and we could read and talk and walk; to-day I have had no one to fill your place, so I will tell you how I have done. There are so many here, and their dinner so late and long, that I made up my mind to avoid it, though, if possible, without appearing singular. So, having remained in my room till breakfast time, we all breakfasted together, and soon after Mr. Phillips and myself took a walk out to the Mumbles Point, at the extremity of this side of the bay. There we sat down to admire the beautiful scenery around us, and, after we had viewed it long enough, returned slowly home. We stopped at a little village in our way, called Oystermouth, and dined at a small, neat, homely house about one o’clock. We then came back to Marino, and after a little while again went out - Mr. Phillips to a relation in the town, and myself for a walk on the sands and the edge of the bay. I took tea in a little cottage, and, returning home about seven o’clock, found them engaged at dinner, so came up to my own room, and shall not see them again to-night. I went down for a light just now, and heard them playing some sacred music in the drawing-room: they have all been to church to-day, and are what are called regular people.

The trial³ at Hereford is put off for the present, but yet we shall not be able to be in town before the end of this week. Though I long to see you, I do not know when it will be; but this I know, that I am getting daily more anxious about you. Mr. Phillips wrote home to Mrs. Phillips from here even before I did - i.e. last Wednesday. This morning he received a letter from Mrs. Phillips (who is very well) desiring him to ask me for a copy of one of my letters to you, that he may learn to write love-letters of sufficient length. He laughs at the scolding, and says it does not hurt at a distance.

Mr. Vivian has just been up to me. They had missed me and did not understand it. He wished me to go down to tea, or, at least, to send some up, both of which I declined. It is now ten o’clock, and he has just left me. He has put the train of my thoughts all in confusion. I want to know when Jane comes home, and who has the kindness to visit you. It seems to me so long since I left you that there must have been time for a great many things to have happened. I expect to see you with such joy when I come home that I shall hardly know what to do with myself. I hope you will be well and blooming, and animated and happy, when you see me. I do not know how we shall contrive to get away from here. We certainly shall not have concluded before Thursday evening, but I think we shall endeavour earnestly to leave this place on Friday night, in which case we shall get home late on Saturday night. If we cannot do that, as I should not like to be travelling all day on Sunday, we shall probably not leave until Sunday night; but I think the first plan will be adopted, and that you will not have time to answer this letter. I expect, nevertheless, an answer to my last letter - i.e. I expect that my dear wife will think of me again. Expect here means nothing more than I trust and have a full confidence that it will be so. My kind girl is so affectionate that she would not think a dozen letters too much for me if there were time to send them, which I am glad there is not.

Give my love to our mothers as earnestly as you would your own, and also to Charlotte or John, or any such one that you may have with you. I have not written to Paternoster Row yet, but I am going to write now, so that I may be permitted to finish this letter here. I do not feel quite sure, indeed, that the permission to leave off is not as necessary from my own heart as from yours.

With the utmost affection - with perhaps too much - I am, my dear wife, my Sarah, your devoted husband, | M. Faraday