LETTER CXI.
September, 1813.
My dear Theodore,
Misunderstanding and misconception, even between
those who reside under the same roof, are, from whatever
cause, the fruitful source of misery to the best of friends.
What, then, may they not effect, among persons less attached
to each other than I know myself to be to you, or than I
believe you to be to me? Do not misconstrue me, whatever
you may observe in my conduct or observations before
others.
You cannot oblige me so much as by thinking yourself to
stand to me in the relation of a favoured son, and by acting
as master in my house, and on my estate, on every occasion,
where your own pleasure or a regard to my interest may
prompt you so to do. When you were young, and I was
of opinion that it might be injurious to your future character
or fortunes to encourage such views, I sedulously repressed
them. Your character is now formed. Consider
yourself, then, as
not less entitled to command here, than
if you were the child of my loins, as you are the son of my
affections. In repressing the forwardness of others I may
have repelled you. Understand me and my feelings, and
we shall never misconceive each other. I wish most fervently
to see you in a situation more worthy of your merit,
and I hope I shall yet live to see it. Until then, take this
hint. It is enough if you enter into my feelings—too much
if you do not.
Yours, affectionately,
JOHN RANDOLPH.
