
Dear Bramwell
You are down in the dumps.
Don’t be down in the dumps.
I tell you my imprisonment is a great blessing and will be a greater. It would be a thousand pities to get me out. Don’t be savage or indignant or contemptuous or anything, but joyful and grateful and willing to do God’s will.
Poor ‘Becca, I would offer to change places with her, but it would be no use and the people would think that the proposal was merely made for theatricality, so I must just hope and pray that God may be with her where she is.
It is no use you troubling to come up to Holloway. The rule is in cast-iron. Waugh, Mrs. Fawcett, George Russel, and Bunting have all been peremptorily refused. I see no one, only Wife, Talbot, and Stout.
I am very sorry to see that the Glasgow bailies have sent the Freethinker seller to gaol for six days for your caricature. It will do harm, and I wish I could get him out.