Rebecca Macky to Catherine CochraneBurnfoot
My own dearest Kitty
I hope by this time you are in London and that you will at least get a quiet night's rest to refresh you for spending a Sabbath in that great city. I do hope you were not as sick as John dreaded you'd be, for so far you have been blessed with calm weather. I think this is a good omen. God will, I trust, be your constant companion, He will take care of you and preserve and amidst the deep waters. You have everybody's prayers that speaks of you, everyone wishing you better fortune than another.
I gave old Kitty the old lockspun and one of your big night-wrappers. You may be sure she was thankful to you. On looking at the one you left Biddy I thought it was too fine to be of any use to her and that 1/6 was better to her so I have her this in your name today and she bade me tell you you have her prayers night and day for God to keep you. I gave the gingham to Sally as the muslin would do her no good. I know you'll say, what does she bother me with this stuff for, but it's just like speaking to you and helps to divert me. Often, often, you are named and far more missed than you can think by every one of us.
I can only blame myself for unkindness, or what is as bad, thoughtlessness about your numerous little wants. I trust you will be able to get some things you require in London, but don't bother yourself getting any expensive things for Ann and the children as a trifle will be equally valued by them.
Aunt Catherine was ill with her back yesterday, the others were as usual, the girls were up after dinner.
We are not sure whether these notes will find you or not. I hope as soon as you are able you will write to John every particular of all that happened from when you left. God knows he deserves you to write to him. I wish you could get a pair of overshoes (as the ones you have are next to none); try and get them.
I there's anything you forgot let me know, that's if I can do it. When we hear from you I'll write you a long letter-- baby often calls you and the boys are often speaking of you.
I must now say good-bye, I have my cravats to iron and this is Saturday.
Don't attempt to go out without Joseph, how is his cheek?
Your own fond sister,
London Wall, London