Thursday December 7th 1850 Brunswick Square
Boo and her husband called this afternoon – not Wednesday, when we are ready to receive callers. Brought Baby Pitt with them. For a reason I cannot fathom they have called him Bradstone Josiah Pitt. I coo’d and twitted about of course but the moment she said the infant’s name I was struck like stone. Why has she given him the name Josiah?
He is a pretty enough child, I suppose. They have already had his image recorded and he does seem a bright and chubby thing. But Josiah? What can they be thinking of? She knows I am anxious for a child of my own. Does it not strike her that I might have a son and want to name him Josiah? I cannot name my child after hers, I should look as though I am a sheep.
No, I am disappointed in Boo. I can say it here if nowhere else. She shall never know it – when she brings him on our walks and I give him flapdoodle about how clever he is or some such. But I shall never call him Josiah, not even in a letter. Never.