LETTER IX.
Bizarre, Sept. 11, 1806.
My dear Theodore,
I thank you for your letter, which I received by the
post before last. Present my respects to Dr. Haller, and
tell him that I will be obliged to him to procure you shirts,
handkerchiefs, and such other things as you may stand in
need of.
We do not say "scarcely nothing," but any thing.
Give my love to Buona, and tell him that I shall forward
his letter to his brother immediately; but, tell him, also, that
"a tolerable long letter" is intolerable English. He
should have used the adverb (tolerably) instead of the adjective.
I wish that, instead of a fictitious correspondent,
you would address your letters, I mean those which Dr. H.
requires you to write, weekly, to some one of your friends,
or acquaintance. It would take off from them the air of
stiffness which now characterizes them. If Buona had been
describing Richmond to his mother, or myself, he would
never have introduced it with, "I beg leave to wait upon
you;" an awkward exordium, which even Mr. Expectation,
of Norfolk, would not approve. You see, my sons, that I
make very free with your performances, but do not let this
discourage you. Write your letters, just as you think them,
and they will be easy; and any inaccuracy, which creeps in,
may be afterwards corrected.
The partridges are so forward, that we have begun to
shoot nearly a month earlier than usual. Carlo is an excellent
dog for bringing birds, after they are shot, but not so
good for finding game. I wish you were with me, my sons,
to enjoy the sport. Your skill, my dear Theodore, would
make amends for my clumsiness, and dear Buona would hold
Miniken, who now runs away from uncle whenever she has
an opportunity. But, thank God, my children, you are
more profitably engaged. This, alone, reconciles me to the
loss of your society. I hope to see you both, about the last
of this month.
Mother has had an ague, and Sally very sore fingers.
Your friend and kinsman,
JOHN RANDOLPH.
P. S.—Do not make a flourish under my name, on the superscription
of your letters. It is not customary to do so.
I got a letter to-night from Mr. Bryan: he and my little
god-son are well, but Mrs. B. has the fever.
My dear Buona, this is your birth-day; you are now entering
on your twelfth year: may you see many happy returns
of this anniversary. The success of my wish will materially
depend, my child, on the use which you make of
the present time.
