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University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875[X]
University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection (1)
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1Author:  Flint Timothy 1780-1840Add
 Title:  Francis Berrian, or, The Mexican patriot  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The first night after the junction, I passed in the tent of my classmate, of whom I have spoken. He gave me a succinct, but most interesting narrative of his fortunes since we had separated from each other in the halls of our alma mater. As the materials, the character, and the fate of that interesting body of young men, who were now united with the Mexican patriots, and many of whom at this moment fill the first offices in Louisiana, have never yet been given to the public, and as they are henceforward identified in the same cause with myself, I shall take leave to digress from the thread of my narrative, to give you a very brief outline of the rise and progress of this expedition on Texas, as my classmate gave it to me. “I have wept over the ruin of the amiable family, with whom you fled to the mountains, victims of a sympathy, for which the subjects of it do not thank you. I have a kind of right in what remains of the family, for Wilhelmine has been my companion, and my fixed friend, and she was very amiable and good. Now, that her father and sisters are dead, I feel it to be a duty due to her, to claim, that you now either marry her, or send the poor forlorn girl to me. However you may have thought before, you must surely feel now, that she can no longer reside with you, as formerly. I will receive, cherish, and comfort her, will ask no questions, and will answer for her safety. You cannot mistake your duty, nor my right to this kind of interference. Present her my love and condolence, and show her this.” “I informed you in my last, of my arrival here from Durango. My father was in a continual fret of impatience, lest we should not arrive in season, to anticipate the decree of confiscation. That terrible word confiscation! There is nothing on earth I hate like Don Pedro, and the worst name I can call him, is Confiscation. I am wholly unable to conceive how, or why old men should become so intensely fond of money, about the time that they cease to be able to make any use of it. I believe, he loves me, as the next best thing to money, and the power he has lost, As to my dear, good mother, he may have loved her once; but that is a thing quite gone by. Do you begin to love your husband less, than you did at first, Jacinta? More than once, on the way, he looked sufficiently sternly upon me, reminding me frequently, that if I had not been a perverse and disobedient child, I should have been, at this time, lady of the minister of war, and he, perhaps, prime minister! All would have been safe, and I in a fair way to ascend the topmost round in the ladder of eminence. I have found the advantage of keeping up the fair ascendency that I have won, when this hated subject is discussed. So I told him, that he must have singular notions of the power of the said minister, to communicate honor, for that he well knew, that he was a coward, a liar, and an assassin; and I know not, if I added other epithets; but I had plenty more in my thoughts, and told him, that if it would comfort him to have me die, I was ready to gratify him, but not in that way. Upon the word, I had to encounter a long and bitter philippic, by way of comfortable even ng domestic confabulation. He rung upon the old changes, the folly and idle romanticity of foolish girls, and the absolute necessity of wealth, to any thing like comfortable, or respectable existence, and that one week's endurance of real poverty, genuine love, and a cottage, would restore my brain to VOL. II. 16 common sense, and bring me to beg, as a boon, the favor, which I was now, in the wildness of folly, casting from me. Then it was easy to digress to that dear young man, and to say, that since that ruinous acquaintance, all other men were liars, assassins, and all that My mother, good woman, as the conversation grew sometimes a little warm, put in a kind of neutral interpolation, partaking equally of assent and dissent, attempting to smooth down my father's brow, and remind me of the rights of paternity. Between apprehensions from Indians, patriots, robbers and Royalists, for we seem to be equally obnoxious to all, and this last and most horrid evil of all, confiscation, I had but an uncomfortable time to the city. I had travelled the same journey before, and had seen and felt the grand and beautiful scenery. At this time, my heart was too heavy, and too painfully occupied for me to have any eyes for nature. Our Lady of the Pillar preserve us! I have seen him again, and my heart beats even now so loud, that it disturbs my thoughts, and my pen. I never needed a second look to assure me that it was the very man. I had been driven to the alameda, with our old duena, who was ill, and in company with my daily tormentor. The carriage windows were drawn up on account of the air. He was walking in the streets, and an Irishman, formerly a servant of my father's, was walking behind him. How well I remember the calm and lofty port, the countenance so animated, benevolent, and mild! I gave a half shriek, before I recollected myself; and then it was too late, for my countenance told the tale of what I had seen. His prying and malignant eye soon discovered in the group the person that had arrested mine. He expressed ironical regret at the cause of my alarm, and muttered something implying that he would not have such terrible objects in the way, to annoy me. I gave him a look that I trust he understood, and told him that to filial regard to my father, he must be sensible he owed all my endurance of his presence. “I know,” I cried, “that you are equally cowardly and vindictive. But, venture to touch a hair of his head, and I will move heaven and earth, until an avenger of his cause shall be found. Not that I have or expect ever to have any personal interest in his preservation beyond the common interest, which all ought to have in preserving the virtuous and the good. In this country of distraction and crime, we ought to preserve at least one good person. If you really wish endurance from me, much more, if you expect kindness, expect it only from using moderation and forbearance towards him. Make no use of your bad power towards him, and in the same proportion, you will be sure of my taking a less active part in his favour. If you would promise me with a pledge, on which I might rely, that you would avail yourself of your influence to protect him, I should be willing to promise in my turn, never to see him again.” The standard of the Patriots is again unfurled, I am told, and directly in view of your castle, in the city of Vera Cruz. With how little ceremony they treat emperors, and kings, and great men in these evil days, upon which we are fallen. I suppose the royal cavalier, so dear to you, sees with an equal eye the fighting of Patriots and Imperialists. Both are alike hostile to him and when these parties have mutually worried and weakened each other, he, the third person, can with so much the more ease fall upon the victor and destroy him. To him all this fighting may be matter of indifferent regard. Not so to me. A man dearer to me than liberty, or country, or home, or all the world, except my dearer parents, and, the Virgin forgive me! except my mother, dearer than even they, is going to join himself VOL. II. 17 to the Patriot standard. I sometimes flatter myself that I am a Patriot by instinct. Since I have been acquainted with this man I have learned to read English; I have been deeply engaged in the American history. What a great country! What a noble people! Compare their faces and persons with those of the people here, and what a difference! There is something independent and severe in the appearance and person of these people. There is not a book in my father's library that treats of them, or their history, but what I have thoroughly conned. But to my story; I am extremely cautious how I indulge in the society of this man. If he learned the half of my impatience to enjoy his society, I fear he would hold me cheap. For they say, at least my mother says, that men will not love too much love, or value any thing that comes cheap. In fact I dare not treat myself too much, or too often with that high and intoxicating enjoyment, and I economize every moment of it, and feel as though I had acquired a title to enjoy it by forbearance before the treat. I affect a distance and reserve in his presence, that appears to give him pain, as I know it does me. It is true, he has not complained in words. But there is often a modest remonstrance in his manner which taxes me with cruelty, more painfully than any words he could utter. We had a long walk together yesterday. To give us countenance, and to screen our purpose, Laura started with us, and as soon as we were beyond view, she kindly left us to ourselves. How deeply this child has read the chapter of the heart! And what was the fruit of this solitary ramble? the very anticipation of which was sufficient to rouse my pulses to fever quickness! Why, we walked side by side most lovingly indeed, but as silent as stock doves. He sighed, poor fellow, and I sighed. He said Yea—and I said Amen. He looked at San Puebla, which is now casting up ruddy flames amidst its pillars of smoke, and his eye kindled for a moment, but he soon returned to his sighs again. Once he met me, as I well remember, with a kind of saucy recklessness. But now, when he steals a glance at me, his eye quails, and when to assist me in passing, he takes my hand, his absolutely trembles. My heart thanks him, for I feel that these are the tremors of a subdued heart. He came out at last with the principal secret, and told me that he was about leaving this city for Vera Cruz. It was now my turn to show emotion; and it was at first too great for words. As soon as I became collected from the first surprise, I told him that those who wished him best, wished him nothing better than to stay where he was, and that it was a conduct that militated against his professions to me, to leave a place where he could visit me at his choice. He then informed me, that the Patriot flag was unfurled at Vera Cruz; that his principles, his predilections, and he added, as his cheek reddened, his detestation of Iturbide and his minions forbade him to remain in an inglorious pursuit here, although he could at any moment look at the town of the Mansion of Martha, where honorable men his compatriots were rushing to the tented field. He added, that his determination had been approved by the Conde de Serrea; that he expected appointment and rank in the Patriot army; that there was but one vista through the darkness of his prospects to the only hope of his heart, and that he saw no way for him, but to cut his path through it with his good sword. I know not if I give them rightly, but at the time I thought them pretty words, and I understood the meaning to be that, he had no hope of gaining me, but by gaining distinction and power at the same time. I saw that his heart sunk at the prospect of leaving me; and as he looked dejected and on the minor key, I believe that I threw as much encouragement as I well could into my manner. I am afraid that he thought me too fond, for I think that I pressed his hand and gave him well and fully to know that, in me he had a tried and sure friend in the garrison. Indeed more soft things were said than there is any use in writing. I conjured him to take care of himself and not be rash. I cautioned him against the assassin-dagger of Don Pedro, who is to command the imperial forces against the Patriots; and then I placed before him the dangers of that sultry and sickly climate. I conjured up so many horrors in prospect that my eyes actually filled with tears, and I was obliged to turn away to prevent his seeing them. He had harped on the right string, and I became talkative. I said a thousand things, and some of them I suppose more tender than I should have said. I am sure that he discovered that I was a traitor, for I expressed a decided wish that the Patriots might prevail, and that he might acquire consideration and glory; and if they established a new government, above all things, that he might acquire influence enough to save my father's estate from confiscation. He clearly understood me to mean that, whenever this should be the case, he would be the favored man of my father, as he was now of me. And here, the man habitually so guarded in the expression of his feelings, fell into a most amiable fit of raptures, and made a great many protestations of love and respect and all that, and he talked so fast, and so fervently, and withal managed the thing so well, that I was obliged to let him run on. At seven in the evening I was obliged to tear myself away from him and see my persecutor. I told him so; and told him moreover that when he saw with how much patience I bore this torture, I wished him to copy it. I envy you, for you are daily near him, who occupies all my thoughts. And yet such are the horrible barriers of party and opinion, your noble minds must be at variance, and you cannot meet him, for he is a Patriot and you are a Royalist. So once was I, and I think fiercer than you. See this man, and but for your husband you would be a Patriot too. But you are married, and for your loyalty to your husband and your king you had best not see him. We have had a large pacquet from the Patriots, that is, the Conde has had one, and they have had a battle, the Patriots and Imperialists, and the latter had the advantage. Heaven be praised, my beloved is safe, and Sant' Anna writes that, he behaved gloriously. He was every where in the thickest of he fight, hunting, I dare say, for his Excellency, my admirer. They have appointed him a Colonel, and he has gained influence and respect far beyond his nominal command. Every despatch is full of his conduct and his praises. I rejoice in his glory with trembling. Angels and the blessed Virgin preserve him, and bring him back in safety with his glory! To be admired and promoted in a cause which the Conde espouses, must be real glory. Then I read his own letter to the Conde written in Spanish. The purity of the language and style, would have done credit to the Royal Academy. Of himself he writes with the perfect modesty and simplicity of a great man. There was a chasm in the letter, and there, thought I, had he dared, would have been love for me. I kissed the white interval at the thought. He says, that Sant' Anna is full of courage, that the Patriots are no ways disheartened, and that the people are every day flocking to their standard. Indeed the emperor himself looks in doubt, and his eternal simper was this evening exchanged for a look of anxiety, and he appeared the better for it. He had a great deal to say about his Excellency, and his being the firmest prop of his throne, and how impatient I must be to hear from the army, and how anxious for his return! This man of the muddy head has not yet been admitted to the secret of my likes and dislikes; and he is too destitute of penetration to see what is most palpably passing immediately under his eye. And then, having praised his Excellency, thick and three fold, he began to anoint me in the same way. There are certain little liberties which he thinks it a great honor to bestow upon his favorites. He seemed disposed to take them with me. I repelled them, and in a manner, which could not be mistaken. I will aver, that the man is not wholly destitute of good feeling; for he blushed even to his red whiskers. You have made my heart glad with your letter. You say, that you espouse no cause, that blinds your understanding, or takes away the power of discriminating truth from error, pretension from reality. That is like you. You have taken interest enough in him from his being dear to me, to inquire him out. You delight me by saying, that his deportment has won all praise, triumphed over envy, and even gained the applauses of your husband. Every generous heart ought to feel the difference between an unprincipled adventurer, and the partizan, whose private life and deportment show, that his heart and his principles are in the cause he espouses; and who in private pities, relieves, and spares those men for whose cause he professes to have taken up arms. It is only necessary to look at him, to see that the motives that have carried him to the field are neither interest nor to take side with the strongest. There is something that speaks out when the heart is in earnest. I have never seen a man whose manner so strongly evinces that every thing he does, is matter of conscience and principle. I have this day received a package of your letters at once. I do not wonder at your astonishment that you have had no news of me for a long time. It is a miracle that you should ever hear of me again as an inhabitant of this earth. Oh! what have I not suffered? I have lived fifty years in a month, and I have performed, Oh! such a penance for my sins. Surely, I must have sinned deeply. But I hope my trials have not been without their use. I am sure that I am more sober; that I have acquired some practical philosophy, and that my pulses will never beat so tumultuously again. But you shall have the sad story of my sufferings. The evening after my mother had at last come out with that decided preference for Mr. Berrian, that I mentioned to you; too happy to sit still, and in a frame of mind to muse in the moon-light and inhale the delicious evening breeze, and think upon that man, I bade the dueña walk with me and I took the direction of the lake, for we live near that extremity of the city. It was very imprudent I grant you, in these times of distraction and misrule. But I felt so happy and in such a delightful frame of mind to enjoy the evening! and I felt too as if I was strong in the strength of his protecting arm. We had cleared the city and were approaching the lake before we remarked that a carriage with servants wearing the Imperial livery followed us. An apprehensive suspicion flashed across my mind, but was instantly driven out by a pleasanter train of thought. We continued to walk on for nearly half a league, and the dueña remarked to me that the carriage followed at the same pace and kept the same distance. Ashivering terror of some unknown danger pervaded my mind, as I perceived that she remarked rightly. We immediately turned on our steps for the city. The carriage stopped in a notch of the causeway. Petrified with terror, I stopped too; but not long, for a man muffled in a cloak and followed by two servants made towards me. I shrieked and ran as fast as the unwiedly dueña could follow me. I was overtaken in a moment. The stranger grasped me in his arms, and the servants at the same moment caught the screaming and struggling dueña Indignation and the spirit of my father returned upon me. I sternly asked him what he wanted, for that if it was my money and jewels they were at his service. He replied that he was aware that I had not so mistaken his object; that I could not but have conjectured by whom, and for what purpose he was employed. Lest I should still doubt, he told me that he was ordered to convey me safely and respectfully, if I would allow him, to Xalapa, there to meet my affianced husband; that he was instructed to explain so much of his object in order to allay any unfounded apprehensions, and to set my mind at ease as to my destination. That for the rest, he hoped I would enter the carriage that waited for me, cheerfully, when I knew his purpose; for in that case he was charged to use his best and most respectful exertions to render the journey pleasant. But that his commands were positive, and his business urgent, admitting neither hesitation nor delay; and that his instructions were to bring me to his Excellency at Xalapa, respectfully, if I would, or forcibly if he must; and he begged me to fix upon the alternative. I am too happy to write to any being but you, and I begin to credit the old saw, which asserts that happiness makes us selfish. I left myself at the close of my last, along with my general, at Xalapa. Instead of two hours which he promised me, he staid until late at night. Before he left me, he arranged the terms by a message, on which I might stay at the Carmelite convent in that city, as long as he occupied it with his troops. Protestant and heretic as they held him, he has present power, and, I fear me, that is the divinity most devoutly worshipped here, as elsewhere. He promises the sisterhood protection. He stations a guard without the walls, and is to be admitted within them at any hour that he chooses. They are to afford the shelter of their sanctuary to me, until he carries me back in triumph to Mexico. The convent is a sweet place, the exact retirement for a mind and a heart like mine. It is in valley, like a sweet isle sheltered in a sea of mountains. Here are fine oaks, the sure indications of health. It has orange groves, and the delicious fruits and flowers of every clime. Amidst its bowers run a number of beautiful and limpid brooks, chafing over pebbles. Hither I was removed, escorted by the youthful general and a select body of troops. At midnight he retired and left me to the notes of the pealing organ, the midnight prayers of the sisters, and to communion with my own thoughts. He returned next day in safety to Xalapa. Don Pedro was too far in advance of him, to be overtaken. He immediately selected a garrison and appointed a commander for this city. He has had news from Sant' Anna, who has captured Queretaro. Having settled his arrangements for leaving this city, he spent the greater part of the day alone with me, in the charming gardens and groves of the convent, and such a day! A year of such days would be too much for a state of trial. The next morning he started with his whole force, except the garrison, for Mexico. It was a cheering, and heart-stirring sight, the ceremonial of our leaving, and I think, intended as a kind of fête for me. The troops appeared to be in their gayest attire and in high spirits They filed off in front of the convent gate. The piazza of the convent was filled with all the gaiety and beauty of the city. My general rode a spirited white charger, and many an encomium did the ladies pass upon him little knowing how my heart concurred in all their praises. They all admitted he was the finest looking man they had ever seen. This with ladies is no small praise. As he came up in front and doffed his military cap and waved his plumes, there was a corresponding waving of handkerchiefs, and fair hands, and a general shout of Viva la Republica, and Viva el Capitan Liberador. He dismounted and came up to the gate, which was thrown open for the occasion, kissed the hand of the prioress and other religious sisters, and asked their prayers for the success of his cause. The prioress presented him with a consecrated handkerchief. which received with a respectful address, and what surpris them most, was not his uncommon beauty of form and person, nor his gallant and dignified bearing as an officer, but that he bowed like a king, spoke the true Castilian, and kissed the hand of the prioress, like a devout catholic. I confess, that a little pride mixed with the love in my heart, when he came to me in the presence of such a concourse, and begged the honor of escorting me to Mexico, and to my mother. Some in my case, and feeling as I do, would odiously affect indifference and tranquillity and all that. But I confess I am impatient with the tedious progress of these miserable negotiations. The cities and the provinces are all leaving the standard of the Emperor, and my father's countenance brightens daily, for he too, has become a Patriot; and it is quite amusing to hear one of the most ancient grandees of the Spanish monarchy, talking about liberty and the rights of man, as if a thing of very recent discovery. The Emperor has made the Patriot general proposals, and the papers are all brought to my future husband. I tremble even now, as I read the hated name of the minister of war, signed at the bottom. How everlastingly tedious are these miserable politicians; and they will spin out the simplest trifle to a volume. I have the satisfaction, however, to perceive that the good man is as impatient and as much vexed at this delay, as I am. He says nothing about it, and sturdily continues the air of self-control and the affectation of philosophy. But I see by his manner that he will be glad when all this business is settled. I am glad that it vexes him. We love to see that others have no more philosophy than ourselves. Why should I complain we constantly pass the day together, and we chat like old acquaintances. Instead of fighting the enemy with guns and swords, we fight with proclamations and long speeches. It is a hard thing to keep these stupid gen erals from quarrelling among themselves. My general is constantly throwing water on their fire. Sant' Ann confessed to my father to-day, that but for the North American general, they would all fall together by the ears, and the cause would fail. This evening is to see me no longer Doña de Alvaro. My hand trembles, and if the characters which I trace are a little flurried, I hope you will pardon me, for you have passed through the same ordeal. Let me tell you something about these important arrangements. I well remember and can produce your account of this same business to me in three whole sheets. I will have more conscience with you. First then, the Bishop of Mexico is to solemnize the wedding. He is a venerable man, dignified and unblameable in the discharge of his holy functions, and has retained the confidence and respect of all parties. He could never be prevailed on to take any part in the usurpation of the Emperor. He has always been a friend of my father's, and is known to incline in his feelings towards the Patriots. Secondly, we are to be publicly married in the church of `Nuestra Senora de Guadaloupe,' my patroness, and Laura is to be bridemaid. Poor little thing, her bosom beats almost as mine! The day, too, is my birth-day! What a singular coincidence! Thirdly, my father being president of the provincial junta, there is to be a general illumination. Fourthly, immediately after my return to my father's house, Bryan is to be married to a pretty Irish girl, whom he has found here in the city. Lastly, the first and last wish of my duena's heart is to be gratified in her being immediately after married to Matteo Tonato, the stoutest man in my father's establishment, and the bridegroom and the bride have charged themselves with the expense of a shanty for the one and a casa for the other. The whole is to conclude with a splendid tertulia and fandango. I shall wish all this matter in the Red sea. It is all over. I will give you the details in their order. Just as the sun was setting, my mother and Laura, and two other distinguished young ladies of the city, were assisted by the bridegroom into the state coach. Thirty coaches of invited guests followed. The whole was escorted by a select body of troops, lately under the command of my husband. At the head of the procession was my father accompanied by the Conde de Serra and the first officers of the Junta. Military music, firing of cannon, and ringing of bells marked the commencement of the procession. At the door of the magnificent church we were received by the Bishop and the priesthood of the city, all in their most solemn robes of office. The church, was full to overflowing, and adorned with evergreens, and covered quite to the centre of its vaulted dome with that profusion of splendid flowers in which our city abounds. We walked on flowers up to the altar. The bridegroom conducted himself with his usual dignity and calmness, and, after all, the ceremony was so imposing, and the duties assumed of a character so formidable, that I felt myself trembling and faint, and should have conducted myself foolishly but for the sustaining manner and countenance of my husband. Amidst clouds of incense, the pious minister, dressed in robes of the purest white, performed the solemn services of this Sacrament, and we both pronounced our vows in a firm and decided voice, after the manner of those who had meditated the duties of this relation, and resolved to be faithful to them. The moment the vows were pronounced, we were literally covered with flowers, and saluted with vivas from every quarter of the church. My mother and father embraced and kissed me; and my husband, you know, had now acquired the right to do so. Laura too, kissed me, and whispered me, when returned from the States, to bring her just such a husband, as mine. The Bishop led me back through the aisle of the church, and gave me his benediction at the door. The organ was pealing its grand symphonies, a I was assisted into my carriage. The city, as we drove back, was one dazzling mass of illumination. On all sides was the gaiety of fête, and I much fear of drunk enness. To my great relief after a night of so much fête and gaiety, we were entirely en famille in the morning. I dreaded to see company, and could have chosen to spend the day alone with my husband. But immediately after breakfast drove up the Conde's coach. A card was handed me from Laura, requesting the pleasure of a drive with me. I sent her for word, that, unless she was disposed to give a place to my husband, she must positively excuse me. The message back was, that if he chose to accompany me back, so much the better. He consented to accompany me, and the drive was a pleasant one, except that occasionally when my husband looked another way, Laura gave me looks so wickedly and impertinently inquisitive, that I was obliged to assume matronly airs, look grave, and show her all the difference in deportment, between a wife and a spinster. But she is really a most forward child, and answered me by looks of such merry defiance back again, that I see nothing will cure her but to be able to put on the same official dignity herself. I have received your kind letter and the beautiful rosary accompanying it. I thank you a thousand times for your kind wishes. I have no apprehension on the score on which you warn me. I have no terrors of the weather getting duller after honey moon, as you call it, VOL. II. 22 * I only fear that this more intimate view of things will inspire an idolatry too blind, and that I shall only be too much tempted to surrender my judgment and my reason to the keeping of another. When I loved him at a distance, I knew but the half of his deserts. You must see the manner, and the motive, that he carries with him to the sanctuary of our privacy; you must walk and ride with him, as I do; you must catch his eye as we scramble together up the mountains, or listen to his conversation as we sail together on these sweet lakes; in short you must find him, as I do most full, and rich, and delightful in that “dear spot, our home,” to do full justice to his character. Let the Stoics preach that this life never does, or can yield any thing, but satiety and disappointment. I know better on experience. I could live happily on the treasured recollection of the few days we have had together, for a whole year. If I ever hear foolish girls affecting to be witty again, as I have so often heard them before, in declaiming against the wedded life—by the way, you and I know, with how much sincerity they do it—I will say to them, “Foolish girls, this talk is all stuff.” Be married to worthy men as soon as possible. I have experienced more enjoyment in a day since marriage, than in a year before. Indeed my duena seems another sort of person, she is so happy; and Bryan too, in his strange way, eulogizes matrimony, and his red-cheeked and yellow-haired spouse blushes her consent. I am so much the more delighted with the regularity of your correspondence, as I know you have so many important occupations. You still express curiosity to hear from me, though I have passed that dread bourne where all curiosity and interest generally cease. But I feel that the energies of my affections, so far from having become paralyzed by having passed this bourne, have become more unchanging and more powerful. My conscience tells me it is a duty to write to you so long as you feel any desire to hear from me.
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