A Furious Wind and Sea
[ February 19-27, 1839]
I am afraid my letters must be becoming very wearisome to you; for if, as the copybook runs, "Variety is charming," they certainly cannot be so unless monotony is also charming, a thing not impossible to some minds, but of which the copybook makes no mention. But what will you as the French say; my days are no more different from one another than peas in a dish, or sands on the shore: it is a pleasant enough life to live for one who, like myself, has a passion for dullness, but it affords small matter for epistolary correspondence. I suppose it is the surfeit of excitement that I had in my youth that has made a life of quiet monotony so extremely agreeable to me; it is like stillness after loud noise, twilight after glare, rest after labor. There is enough strangeness, too, in everything that surrounds me here to interest and excite me agreeably and sufficiently, and I should like the wild savage loneliness of the faraway existence extremely if it were not for the one small item of "the slavery."
I had a curious visit this morning from half-a-dozen of the women, among whom were driver Morris's wife and Venus (a hideous old goddess she was, to be sure), driver Bran's mother.