University of Virginia Library

LETTER CXXXII.

I found your letter upon my table, yesterday, when I returned
from my morning visits, to dress for dinner. It was
a most sensible relief to me, as you may suppose, from the
complexion of my letter, written yesterday morning—which
I now almost regret to have sent: however, you will receive
this at the same time; and it may not be amiss to have shown
you how important it is to my comfort to hear from you, if not
regularly, at least at shorter intervals than of fifty days. I
perceive that, in your last, you acknowledge to have received
my letter of the 17th of November, in answer to yours of the
7th; so that, exclusively of two others, from this place, it was
your turn to write: but you are not the only correspondent
who has alleged, as a reason for not replying to my letters,
that he expected to hear from me again. I had arranged
the epistolary campaign with admirable skill. My friend S.,
at Washington city, occupying the middle ground, was selected
as the medium of communication, and was to forward
to the north, or send back to the south, all packets addressed
to me, agreeably to the instructions he should receive;
and, being on the main line of daily posts, I kept him
advised, twice or thrice a week, of my movements or position—so
that, upon the whole, my dear doctor, I cannot perceive
the equity of your plea, of "ignorance where a letter
would meet me."

I am truly gratified to hear that your mother has been with
you. I hope she will soon return and solace your solitude
with her presence. When I shall get back, is, as yet, uncertain,
from the state of the weather. I shudder at facing the
north-west wind, in an open carriage, with my young charge.
I hope you did not communicate to your mother any part of
my letter, except that which contained the request that she

would relate the circumstances of my brother's death. Her
visit to Virginia was entirely unexpected by me; I hope to
have the pleasure of seeing her before she returns to Tennessee.
Her company, at all times the most desirable to you,
must, under present circumstances, possess an unusual charm.
You mention nothing (more vestro) of your father and family—particularly,
of my favourite Fanny.

I regret, too, that you make no mention of your friends
here, who speak of you with the most cordial regard. Dr.
and Mrs. G., the C—s, G—s, Mrs. H., a most charming
woman, and Dr. and Mrs. Ch. I have seen, too, your
pretty Mrs. W., and am invited to dine there, on Saturday;
but two previous invitations prevent my ending the year thus
agreeably. I commence it with Mrs. W.

This cold weather will, I trust, fill our ice-house. Your
care respecting the negroes' clothing, and every thing else,
demands more than I can repay. You say, "Quashia saw
Mr. R., on his return from Richmond." I hope he has not
forgotten my orders on the subject of returning via Farmville:
they are express and peremptory; and I am resolved
on breaking up all communication between my estate and
that neighbourhood.

If you did not give old Essex my great coat, send it down
to Richmond, to Adam M., by the first safe conveyance. Remember
me to him, and Jupiter, and Nancy, and little Molly,
and Hetty, and all the people. I hope Jupiter does well.
Dr. C. says the fern is all a deception. It is a common
plant, growing about springs; but of no virtue in Tænia.[1] I
am very anxious about my little bay Minimus. Also, respecting
the foals of Lady B. Duette, the heir of Brunette,
and Duette's grand-son. These I take to be the best on the
estate. The two years' old colts are not much, except Lady
B's.; which I wish to be well kept. Remember me to old
Carlo, and Dido, and Sancho. Farewell. You say nothing

of St. George's disease. I presume, therefore, he left you as
well as he was on the 16th of October.