LETTER LXII.
Roanoke, Sunday Afternoon, July 21, 1811.
My dear Theodore,
I scribbled a few lines on Thursday last. To-day,
I am greeted by your welcome letter of the 14th, (this day
week,) informing me of the safe receipt of my last remittance;
but I have no letter from Mr. Clay. I am, however, well
pleased that he amply overpays me, in his attentions to you,
for his neglect of myself. I need not enjoin upon you to cultivate
his valuable friendship. It is a source of the truest enjoyment
to me, that you find in him all that I had flattered
myself he would prove to you; more he could not be. Why,
my dear son, did you suffer Dr. B. to pass you? You ought
to have made up to him and Mrs. B., who could not have expected
to meet with you, and, therefore, did not observe you.
Do you not know that they are two of the best friends that I
have in the world, and, therefore, friends of yours? They
will be mortified when they learn
how they missed of you.
I am rejoiced to perceive that, although still languid, you
are visibly better than when your penultimate letter was despatched:
go on, and improve in health; in every thing else
you are what I wish you to be—except a little defect, of absence,
or inattention. When you write, look over my letters
and
answer them, instead of omitting, sometimes, topics
that are interesting to me. I am glad to tell you that (two
sleepless nights, notwithstanding,) I am generally amended in
health since this day week. I shall begin with Dr. Rush
to extol calomel as the "Samson of Medicine!" I was
obliged, however, to resume my flannels.
The four last days have been very sultry, and attended
with heavy rains, to the very material injury of my crop of
tobacco. I shall lose one-half of it, and the remainder greatly
damaged. I hope you will not be in fault if you are not
well acquainted with Mr. W—. He is a literary character—rare,
even in your quarter of the United States. I have
a letter from Mr. Dillon. He has been very ill; taken in Petersburg,
where Dr. R., probably, saved his life.
I expect Mr. Macon and Mr. R. Jones here in the course
of this week.
Yours, entirely,
JOHN RANDOLPH, of Roanoke.
The wet weather has destroyed many broods of young partridges.
Can you get any of Pigon & Andrews, in Philadelphia.
Thermometer at 84°, 3 o'clock, P. M.
Messrs. Wm. Watkins, Bouldin, and Beverley, (who returned
on Friday evening,) have just set out for Halifax
Court. Tom Murray (I hear) is about to settle in Campbell.
My best regards to Mr. and Mrs. Clay, and Mr. Croskey.
Love to godson Randolph, and respectful compliments to
Mrs. Rush. She is, indeed, a fine woman; one for whom I
have felt a true regard, unmixed with the foible of another
passion. Fortunately, or unfortunately for me, when I knew
her, "I bore a charmed heart." Nothing else could have
preserved me from the
full force of her attractions. I want
to hear more of the picture, (Mr. Clay's,) and I want
to
see it.No prospect of fair weather. Where are the Yellow
Springs? Are they those mentioned in the port-folio?
Monday Morning, 22d.
Since I wrote yesterday evening, we have had a great fall
of rain. The weather continues cloudy, and the atmosphere
we breathe seems to be water itself—at least, vapour. I must
ascribe much of my relief to the resumption of flannels, which
I put on in the night of the 14th, (Sunday,) just as the calomel
was beginning to operate. I had lain them aside on the
4th, and my health, then bad, grew rapidly worse, until the
22d, when my complaint seemed to take a turn. Be particular
respecting your health.
