 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO MISS LUCY CRANCH.
I hope you have before now received my letter,
which was ordered on board with Captain Lyde,
but put on board another vessel, because it was said
she would sail first. By that you will see that I did
not wait to receive a letter from you first. I thank
you for yours of November 6th, which reached me
last evening; and here I am, seated by your cousin.
J. Q. A.'s fireside, where, by his invitation, I usually
write.
And in the first place, my dear Lucy, shall I find
a little fault with you? A fault, from which neither
your good sister, nor cousin Abby, is free. It is
that all of you so much neglect your handwriting.
I know that a sentiment is equally wise and just,
written in a good or bad hand; but then there
is certainly a more pleasing appearance, when the
lines are regular, and the letters distinct and well
cut. A sensible woman is so, whether she be handsome
or ugly; but who looks not with most pleasure
methinks I hear you say, "only look at your own
handwriting." Acknowledged; I am very sensible
of it, and it is from feeling the disadvantages of it
myself, that I am the more solicitous that my young
acquaintance should excel me, whilst they have
leisure, and their fingers are young and flexible.
Your cousin, J. Q. A., copied a letter for me the
other day, and, upon my word, I thought there was
some value in it, from the new appearance it acquired.
I have written several times largely to your sister,
and, as I know you participate with her, I have not
been so particular in scribbling to every one of the
family; for an imagination must be more inventive
than mine, to suppy materials with sufficient variety
to afford you all entertainment. Through want of a
better subject, I will relate to you a custom of this
country. You must know that the religion of this
country requires abundance of feasting and fasting,
and each person has his particular saint, as well as
each calling and occupation. To-morrow is to be
celebrated, le jour des rois. The day before this
feast it is customary to make a large paste pie, into
which one bean is put. Each person at table cuts
his slice, and the one who is so lucky as to obtain the
bean, is dubbed king or queen. Accordingly, to-day,
when I went in to dinner, I found one upon our table.
Your cousin Abby began by taking the first slice;
but alas! poor girl, no bean, and no queen. In the
next place, your cousin John seconded her by taking
he inspects merchandise, bisected his paste with
mathematical circumspection; but to him it pertained
not. By this time, I was ready for my part; but first
I declared that I had no cravings for royalty. I accordingly
separated my piece with much firmness,
nowise disappointed that it fell not to me. Your
uncle, who was all this time picking his chicken bone,
saw us divert ourselves without saying any thing;
but presently he seized the remaining half, and to
crumbs went the poor paste, cut here and slash there;
when, behold the bean! "And thus," said he, "are
kingdoms obtained;" but the servant, who stood by
and saw the havoc, declared solemnly that he could
not retain the title, as the laws decreed it to chance,
and not to force.
How is General Warren's family? Well, I hope,
or I should have heard of it. I am sorry Mrs. Warren
is so scrupulous about writing to me. I forwarded a
long letter to her some time since. Where is Miss
Nancy Quincy? Well, 1 hope. We often laugh at
your cousin John about her. He says her stature
would be a great recommendation to him, as he is
determined never to marry a tall woman, lest her
height should give her a superiority over him. He
is generally thought older than your cousin Abby;
and partly, I believe, because his company is with
those much older than himself.
As to the Germantown family, my soul is grieved
for them. Many are the afflictions of the righteous.
Would to Heaven that the clouds would disperse,
them. Let Mrs. Field know, that Esther is quite
recovered, and as gay as a lark. She went to Paris
the other day with Pauline, to see a play, which is
called "Figaro." It is a piece much celebrated,
and has had sixty-eight representations; and every
thing was so new to her, that Pauline says, "Est is
crazed."
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |