Letter from Emma Evans to her cousin Arthur Phelps.  Transcribed from a scan of the original in January 2013 by Penelope Forrest, born Phelps, great granddaughter of Arthur.

                                                                                    Bosworth Nov^r 17^th 1854

My dearest Arthur,

            When I last wrote to you I told you how very ill dear Papa was & now I have to tell you of his death. He had been becoming gradually weaker for about a week before the 8^th & on that day he was in a great deal of pain all day & towards evening he became much worse & died shortly before midnight. I knew nothing of it till the next morning when I was awakened by hearing the tolling of the bell & knew what it must mean. He remained in perfect possession of his mind up to the last & took the same warm interest in every thing that he always did. Only Mamma was with him at the last. He died in his sleep. Herbert Evans¹, the doctor at Hampstead, came here a fortnight previously, unexpectedly. It was very kind of him to come for few men have so little time at their own disposal. He gave us no more hope than M^r Hubbard did & dissuaded Mamma from taking in any further advice as all that medicines could do had been done. We knew that before as when he was in London & consulted D^r Watson, he gave him the same prescriptions that M^r Hubbard had tried before.

            He often talked of you. The funeral took place on Monday. We were all there. He had wished it to be very quiet – so no one was invited. Uncle Tom² asked to come & stayed till Wednesday morning. He loved & appreciated Papa better than one would fancy anyone so radically different could. There were a number of poor people there and the Odd Fellows Club also asked leave to follow. Jack & Bassy were both away from home & did not come till Thursday evening. Mamma has borne up wonderfully under her weeks of incessant attendance & anxiety but does not sink now that her work is over as I had rather feared she might. Work however there is plenty before us but of a different kind. For we must leave Bosworth soon – not before Christmas. We are to go at first & occupy Jack's house as they are going to winter at Abbot's Hill, (Uncle John & the rest being at Brook Street) & look about till we find where finally to settle.

            Arthur, I write this all coolly. You, who knew Papa & Bosworth, know in part at any rate, what it is to have to write so. Where we shall at last fix ourselves, we of course do not know yet. Jack & Harriet of course wish it to be near them. I do not, at all, for many reasons – though I am very fond of them. It makes one feel sick at heart to think of having to live anywhere but here & to have this place, our home, occupied by Dudley Somerville or someone of that stamp. I am glad we are to have one more Christmas here – one could not have borne this first Christmas elsewhere. Life will be so different henceforth. I feel often as if it would be hardly worth the living. However one does not live for the pure pleasure of the thing I suppose & every place in life has its duties & is therefore worth living.

            So many kind letters come to us. One of those I have liked the best came to me the other day from my "most affectionate friend," Corney Broadbent who is now at S^t John's Oxford. Such a right-hearted, wrongly-spelt letter it is. I thought when I began that I should be able to write to you – but I find I can't. We have all had so many letters to write lately that I have had practice enough. But I cannot write only bare facts to you – & it seems I cannot write anything more. It is such a wretched day too, which always has its effect on me – a true November day, grey & dark & quiet, with a silent small rain falling incessantly. And I have two bits of "In Memoriam" almost always going in my head now. These grey dull days seem almost interminable. Time usually goes very quickly here – but lately they have seemed a week long each.

            Jack & Bassy were obliged to leave us on Tuesday. Perhaps B may come again tomorrow but I don't know. John has been very unwell lately & that has kept B in town a good deal. I saw very little of Papa latterly, but when I think of him as I have lately seen him in very great pain & then think of that calm face I saw afterwards in which "there was no other thing expressed "But long disquiet merged in rest", I am glad it is all over. He told us to pray that it might be soon over. It is something to be thankful for all one's life to have had such a Father. Dear Arthur – I know how you will feel with us all: if I have written coldly to you, you know me well enough to be sure it is not as I feel. M^r Edwards came in this afternoon & told me to give his love to you. I doubt if he will stay here now. M^r Whitby will go to his living at Lechlade about Christmas I believe. There will soon be hardly any of the old faces here. The Copes will be very lonely when we are gone as well as the Pearsons, & poor Aunt Charlotte will miss Mamma grievously. And the poor people too. I dread the goodbyes. Anne³ does not look at all well. I dare say when we go to Jack's she will go on to Brompton & stay with Aunt Fanny, as she meant to do before. She sends her very best love to dear "Stumps" – so does Mamma. We three are all that is left of home now.

            I thought of you on the 5^th Nov. We all knew it was our last here, though of course we did not talk of it, & at night Bassy got some fireworks & let them off before the house as they all used to do in the old days – such a ghostly mockery of the old days it was, with dear Bassy standing there alone, his heart aching bitterly, as I knew by mine as I watched him from the diningroom windows.

            The year has been a very strange & perplexing one to me in many ways – but it is no use talking to you in this way. I think I did in my last – it was very stupid of me for in no case shall I be able ever to tell you more than a very simple half of a rather complicated romance that some of us have been enacting. So you need never answer any nonsense I talk in this way – as it is done only for my own satisfaction because you are easy to talk to – & I think know more than most people do.

            And now goodbye my dearest Arthur. Think of us & pray for us all. My best love to you.

                        Ever your aff^te cousin Emma

M^rs Cope does not hear from Mad^lle still. Is it not strange?

1. A nephew of Dr Evans

2. Thomas Dickinson, brother of Mrs Evans

3. Emma's sister

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