[Lydia] Mari[a Child] ALS to [Ellis Gray Loring], November 16, 1856

Wayland Nov. 16th, 1856.

Dear Friend,

I think the end draws nigh with my aged
father. He may linger for weeks, or even for months; but my
impression is that he will depart before many days.
I have not left him half an hour, night or day, for three
weeks; for he has frequent physical infirmities, which no one
but myself can administer to. He is very restless, and too feeble
to rise up without assistance; so that my back and shoulders
are very weary with constant lifting. It will not be in my
power to leave him even for an hour, while he lives, be the
time longer or shorter. So I must defer coming to dear Louise
till the prison gates are opened. Father has no disease; but
the forces of nature are all breaking up, and he is sinking
away, sinking away. It seems to me that the earth can not
contain a sight more melancholy than such extreme old age.
I have had no sleep but cat-naps at his bedside for more
than a fortnight. But my strength and energy hold out
wonderfully; though wild AEolian harps do sometimes wail mournfully in my head, and at other times loud bells
ring in my ring loudly in my ears. What strange things
are these nervous phenomena! I could almost swear
they were actual bells. I wish they would chime; but they
don't; they jangle; as bells are wont to do, if sent out into
the world without being instructed what company to keep.

Father is asleep now. He grows more drowsy every day,