LETTER CXIII.
Richmond, Thursday Night, Nov. 25, 1813.
My dear Theodore,
I was highly gratified, to-day, by your letter of the
21st; for, yesterday, the post-office would not condescend to
afford me that pleasure. I wish you had touched, however
slightly, some of the topics of my last. You will readily
guess (as the Yankees say) those to which I refer. On farther
reflection, I am really sorry that we resolved to break up
the pasfure. The natives here (imported, as well as indigenous,)
have no conception of such a turf as that which requires
four horses to cut the sod, with a coulter; and I believe
(for I did not hazard your name or veracity) that they suspected
me of that vice, to which (according to honest Jack
Falstaff) all this world is given. I really doubt the policy,
under "existing circumstances," of destroying this turf, which
is impregnable to the "hoof and the tooth." I forgot to tell
Jemmy to call at Wm. L. Morton's for the herd's grass seed.
Pray send there for it, and have it scattered on the new meadow.
It was not my fault, however, that he did not bring
Garritt's saddle; for Mrs. R. and St. George both promised
that it should not be neglected, and I left it at Farmville on
purpose.
Why did you say nothing of Garritt's disposition to build
at Bizarre? As you are now a man of business, let me suggest
to you that a letter, acknowledging the receipt of another,
is not, necessarily, (logice,) an answer to it;—(by the
way, you have not acknowledged the receipt of mine.) Look
over your letters when you write. Reply to the points of
moment; and superadd what you please, whether of business,
humour, or sentiment—although, with Sir Peter Teazle, I
say, "damn sentiment:" but not the sentiment of an unsophisticated
heart like yours, my son. I thank you and Colonel
Morton on the subject of the sheep. Tell him so; and I
wish that you had taught Beazley by
precept, rather than example,
to use his own hands.
Cannot you meet me here, or on the road?—say Farmville
or Amelia. You know not how much you are prized by
those who know you only as an acquaintance. Can you
wonder then, my dear Theodore, at the value, which I, who
know you, au fond, set upon you.
Good night, and may every blessing attend you.
Yours, truly,
JOHN RANDOLPH, of Roanoke.
Dr. Dudley.
I have heard from Dr. Robinson. He is reasonably well;
unchanged in heart. Mr. L. is gone to Berkeley. I guess
that he will bring Mrs. L. home with him. Pray come
down, if convenient and agreeable.
