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You Neglect C. And N. B. Where Are The Promised

Letters? I See With Delight That You Improve In Diction, And In The

Combination And Arrangement Of Your Little Ideas. With A View To

Farther Improvement, Your Letters To Me Are A Most Useful Exercise. I

Feel Persuaded That All My Hopes And Wishes Concerning You Will Be

Accomplished.

 

 

Never Use A Word Which Does Not Fully Express Your Thoughts, Or Which,

For Any Other Reason, Does Not Please You. Hunt Your Dictionary Till

You Find One. Arrange A Whole Sentence In Your Mind Before You Write A

Word Of It; And, Whatever May Be Your "Hurry" (Never Be In A _Hurry_),

Read Over Your Letter Slowly And Carefully Before You Seal It.

Interline And Erase Lightly With Your Pen What May Appear To You To

Require Amendment Or Correction. I Dispense With Your Copying Unless

The Letter Should Be Much Defaced, In Which Case Keep It Till The Next

Mail. Copy And Improve It.

 

 

Your Play On "Light" Is Pretty And Witty, And The Turn On The _Dear

Little_ Letter Does Not Dishonour The Metempsychosis Of Madame Dacier.

 

 

I Shall Probably See You Very Soon; We Will Then Rearrange Your Hours,

And Endeavour To Remove The Present And Forestall All Future Troubles.

I Should Be Mortified--I Should Be Almost Offended--If I Should Find

That You Passed Over Any Word In My Letters Without Becoming Perfectly

Acquainted With Its Meaning, Use, And _Etymology_.

 

 

Since I Commenced This Letter, Yours Of The 21St Has Come In. It

Speaks Of Another Which Has Not Come, And Of Martel'S Paper, Neither

Of Which Have Come. This Arises From "Hurry." The Note To Mr.

Livingston Is Middling. Affectionately--No, You Hate That Word;

Perhaps Every Thing Is Implied In Plain.

 

 

A. Burr.

Chapter XVII Pg 382

To Theodosia.

 

 

Albany, 4Th January, 1799.

 

 

On Tuesday I Arrived Here, And Yesterday Received Your Two Letters Of

The 29Th And 30Th Of December. Your Despondency Distresses Me

Extremely. It Is Indeed Unfortunate, My Dear Theodosia, That We Are

Constrained To Be Separated. I Had Never So Much Need Of Your Society

And Friendship, Nor You, Perhaps, Of Mine. It Is A Misfortune Which I

Sincerely Regret Every Hour Of The Day. It Is One, However, Which You

Must Aid Me To Support, By Testifying That You Can Support Your Share

Of It With Firmness And Activity. An Effort Made With Decision Will

Convince You That You Are Able To Accomplish All I Wish And All You

Desire. Determination And Perseverance In Every Laudable Undertaking

Is The Great Point Of Difference Between The Silly And The Wise. It Is

Essentially A Part Of Your Character, And Requires But An Effort To

Bring It Into Action. The Happiness Of My Life Depends On Your

Exertions; For What Else, For Whom Else Do I Live? Not That The

Acquisition Of The Languages Alone Can Decide Your Happiness Or Mine;

But If You Should Abandon The Attempt, Or Despair Of Success, Or Relax

Your Endeavours, It Would Indicate A Feebleness Of Character Which

Would Dishearten Me Exceedingly. It Is For My Sake That You Now

Labour. I Shall Acknowledge Your Advancement With Gratitude And With

The Most Lively Pleasure. Let Me Entreat You Not To Be Discouraged. I

Know You To Be Capable Of Much Greater Efforts Than This Will Require.

If Your Young Teacher, After A Week'S Trial, Should Not Suit You,

Dismiss Him On Any Pretence Without Wounding His Pride, And Take The

Old Scotchman. Resolve To Succeed, And You Cannot Fail.

 

 

I Parted With You Amid So Much Hurry And Confusion, And So Many

Vexations, That, When I Had Time To Reflect, I Seemed To Have Said

None Of The Things Which I Had Wished And Intended. I Reproached

Myself Perpetually That I Had Not Urged You To Attend Me. Your Letters

Almost Confirmed Me In The Design Of Returning To Fetch You; And Yet

More Sober Reason Seems To Tell Me That These Things Were Rather The

Effusions Of Sentiment Than Of A Deliberate Estimate Of Your Real

Interests. In Six Weeks, However, We Shall Meet.

 

 

I Intended To Have Recommended To You The Ancient And Modern History

Of Millot. Natalie Has Some Of The Volumes--Some Are In The Library At

Mrs. D.'S, Of Which I Hope You Keep The Key. Millot Is Concise,

Perspicuous, And Well Selected. Rollin Is Full Of Tedious Details And

Superstitious Nonsense.

 

 

There Is Nothing More Certain Than That You May Form What Countenance

You Please. An Open, Serene, Intelligent Countenance, A Little

Brightened By Cheerfullness, Not Wrought Into Smiles Or Simpers, Will

Presently Become Familiar And Grow Into Habit. A Year Will With

Certainty Accomplish It. Your Physiognomy Has Naturally Much Of

Benevolence, And It Will Cost You Some Labour (Which You May Well

Spare) To Eradicate It. Avoid, For Ever Avoid, A Smile Or Sneer Of

Contempt; Never Even Mimic Them. A Frown Of Sullenness Or Discontent

Is But One Degree Less Hateful. You Seem To Require These Things Of

Me, Or I Should Have Thought Them Unnecessary. I See, With Pleasure I

See, That You Have Engaged In This Matter. We Shall Both Be Gratified

By The Result, Which Cannot Fail To Accord With Our Wishes.

 

 

R. Has A Deal Of Godly Coquetry. It Makes A Strange Medley. I Was Most

Hospitably Received, And Full Opportunity Given With Pretty Apparent

Design. R. Has Promised To Be In Albany In A Month. Things Are In

_Statu Quo_.

 

 

I Am Unsettled, And At Present At Witbeck'S. One Would Think That The

Town Was Going Into Mourning For Your Absence. I Am Perpetually

Stopped In The Streets By Little And Big Girls. Where Is Miss Burr?

Won'T She Come Up This Winter? Oh, Why Didn'T You Bring Her? &C.

 

 

J. B. P. Arrived Yesterday, He Has Not Given Me A Letter, Or Any Other

Thing From You. He Suspects, However, That He Has At Least A Letter; A

Fact Which He Will Endeavour To Ascertain In The Course Of This Week.

I Wrote You Two Letters On My Way Up, Addressed To 135

Greenwich-Street. Is That Right? Adieu, Chere Amie,

 

 

A. Burr.

Chapter XVII Pg 383

To Theodosia.

 

 

Albany, 11Th February, 1799.

 

 

On Saturday, The 9Th, I Received Your Two Letters, From The 1St To The

6Th Inclusive; The Last Of Which Is The Only One That Has Come In Due

Season, Or In What Is Termed The Course Of Post. You Now See That A

Letter Can Come From New-York In Three Days; A Truth Which Has Been

Frequently Verified By The Receipt Of My Letters, But Never Before By

The Despatch Of Your Own.

 

 

How Very Perverse And Provoking You Are About Your Correspondence With

Mr. Martin. I Told You Expressly That He Was Not Angry, But, On The

Contrary, That He Sent It Laughingly And As A Good Joke. Pray, From

Whom Did You Learn That He Was Angry? You Charge Me With Not Noticing

Two Of Your Letters, And That I Have Not Given You Any Directions

About Heedlessness. With Submission, Miss, You Are Mistaken. It Is

True That I Have Not Repeated The Word, But I Have Intimated Several

Things Intended To This Point. You Expected, I Presume, That I Should

Treat The Subject Scientifically, As Duport Does His Art, And Begin By

Explanation Of Terms, And Then Proceed To Divide And Subdivide The

Matter, As A Priest Does A Sermon. Such A Dose Would, I Am Sure, Have

Sickened You. I Have Therefore Thought It Best To Give You Very Little

At A Time, And Watch, As Physicians Do With Potent Medicines, The

Effect Produced. When We Meet, Which I Verily Believe Will Be In Five

Or Six Days After The Receipt Of This, You Shall Have As Much As I

Shall Find Your Stomach Will Bear.

 

 

What The Deuse Can Have Got Into Madame S. And N., I Am Utterly At A

Loss To Conjecture, And Beg You Not To Give The Remotest Hint, But

Meet Them As Usual.

 

 

My Overtures To B. Livingston And Mr. And Mrs. R. Were Mere

Volunteers, Not Produced By Any Thing You Said Or Wrote; But I Thought

It Might Tend To Produce A Certain Effect In Your Favour. So You Have

No Apologies To Make Or Pardons To Ask On This Subject. As This,

However, Is Much The Best Composed Part Of Your Letter, I Am

Particularly Obliged To You For It, Even If You Did It To Display Your

Eloquence. It Is, Indeed, Very Happily Expressed.

 

 

You Seem To Have Emerged From Your Lethargy, Which, I Must Confess,

Was Obvious To An Alarming Degree In Several Preceding Letters. I

Congratulate You Upon It, And Hope You Will Never Suffer It Again To

Invade Your Faculties.

 

 

We Will Talk Of Houses, &C. About The 19Th Inst. Henry Walton Has Gone

To New-York By The Last Stage. He Is One Of Those Whose Good Opinion

And Esteem I Wish You To Acquire. He Has Delicacy, Taste, And

Refinement--Very, Very Rare Qualities In This Country At This Day. He

Will Be Often At Your House; Receive Him With Courtesy.

 

 

I Go To Bed Between 12 And 1, And Rise Between 7 And 8. For Some

Reasons To Me Unknown, I Cannot Drink A Single Glass Of Wine Without

Serious Injury; Still Less Can I Bear Ardent Spirits; Of Course, I Am

Pretty Much In The Bread And Water Line; This Is The More Provoking,

As I Dine Out Almost Every Day, And The Dinners Are Really Excellent

And Well-Dressed, Not Exceeded In New-York. I Have Dined At Home But

Four Days Since My Arrival In This City. Think Of That Miss B., And Be

Hush About Hospitality, &C.

 

 

Your Name To One Letter Is Beautifully Written; To The Other, _La La_.

The Handwriting Of The Letters Various; Very Good, Very Bad, And

Middling; Emblematic, Shall I Say, Of The Fair Authoress? Please To

Resolve Me Whether Author Is Not Of Both Genders, For I Hate The

Appendix Of _Ess?_

 

 

What Novel Of Miss Burney Or D'Arblay Is That In Which The Heroine

Begins By An Interesting Account Of Little Details On Her Debut In

London, And Particularly Of A Ball Where She Met Lord Somebody And Did

Twenty Ridiculous Things? I Want Such A Description Of A Ball From

You. Be Pleased To Read Those First Letters Of The Novel Referred To,

And Take Them For A Model.

 

 

You Don'T Say Half Enough About The Long Letter Which I Wrote You On

Sunday Of The Last Week. Adieu, Chere Amie.

 

 

A. Burr.

Chapter XVII Pg 384

To Theodosia.

 

 

Albany, 26Th January, 1800.

 

 

We Arrived Yesterday Without Accident. To-Day I

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