LETTER XXX.
Saturday, March 18, 1808.
You were not mistaken, my dear Theodore, in supposing
that I was unwell. I have been, and am, very much disordered
within the last week; but you were mistaken in ascribing
your not hearing from me to that cause, for I have
written to you very regularly. I wish, if you hear any news
of your mother, or her family, to let me know how they all
do, and, when you write, to present me to them all, especially
to your sister Fanny, for whom I feel peculiar regard.
I am surprised to hear that the stock, horses especially,
will be poor, since there was such plenty of hay and corn.
I hope Mr. Galding will attend to poor little Minikin.
In the hurry of my last, I forgot to note, in one of your
translations from Cæsar, (of March 6th,) the following inaccuracies:
"Intollerable;" "winterings" for winter-quarters.
In the translation from Voltaire, of March 13th: "I yet
wait an extract"—for an extract would have been better.
"I, who's intention"—now, always written whose. In the
translation from Cæsar, of the same date: "Ambushcades"
for ambuscades. We say ambush, but not ambusHcade or
ambushscade, but ambuscade.
The negotiation with Mr. Rose, the British minister, is at
an end. But you are no politician, I believe; and I hope
(for your sake) you never may be. Remember me affectionately
to Sally, and to Hodijah and Tom Murray. The Doctor
and his charming wife, I hope, have not forgotten me, although
I fear my little friend William has. My best regards
to them all.
Adieu, my dear Theodore.
Yours, most truly,
JOHN RANDOLPH.
Mr. Theodorick Bland Dudley.
By this time, I hope you have been gratified with a sight
of St. George's
[1]
drawings: tell me what you think of them.
