LETTER LXXIII.
Roanoke, Oct. 13, 1811.
Sunday Night.
My dear Theodore,
Your welcome letter of the 6th arrived to-day, most
opportunely, to withdraw my mind from those vexatious and
vulgar details to which a Southern planter must, in some degree,
attend, or encounter certain ruin. You may well suppose
how much my time is taken up with these heartless,
or, rather, disheartening cases, when I tell you that I have
not yet found any one to supply the place of poor Curd—I
mean in form; for I "shall never look upon his like again."
I am glad to find that you can and do amuse yourself with
field-sports: but I hope you will take care how you exchange
shots with any but gentlemen; and even with them, that
you will have your quarrel just. A man would cut a pitiful
figure who should lose his life in a brawl with such fellows
as you describe your unknown adversary to be. We
should study that our deaths, as well as our lives, should be
innocent, if not honourable and glorious; so that our friends
should have no cause to blush for the folly, or rashness, of
either. At the same time, be assured, my dear Theodore,
that, of all the defects in the human character, there is none
that I should so much deprecate for my friend, or myself, as
want of spirit and firmness.
You say that "Mrs. Clay is anxious to get my picture."
Do you mean my picture of Mr. Clay, or the picture of myself
which I had taken for him? The last, Mr. Nicholson,
jr., promised to transmit to Philadelphia last spring. I am
very anxious to get my picture of Mr. Clay as soon as it
shall have been copied for his friends. I cannot part with
the original, unless Mrs. Clay desires it. Present me, affectionately,
to her and Randolph. I hope to see them
some time this winter. Can she be prevailed upon, do you
think, to intrust him to my care?
I am glad you have become acquainted with Mr. John
Morton, of Bordeaux. He is a most valuable man; an honour
to Virginia. His worthy connexions will be justly
proud to see him.
To whom is my friend Roscius about to be married? I
hope some good party: although I fear matrimony will not
suit his habits. He has been too long a "chartered libertine,"
to bear the matrimonial chains: they will not clank
so gracefully as the fetters of Pierre.
Mr. Patton, of Alexandria, writes to me that he has received
from Mr. Hackley a fine pointer for me, which he
keeps subject to my order. Mr. Hackley's last letter mentions
the dog as a very fine one. He sent three others for
Mr. W. R. and myself; one of which is a double-nosed slut.
It was the only one, of that race, that Mr. H. had been
able to procure since the loss of the two (by storm) that he
had shipped for us. The French, around the Bay of Cadiz,
got possession of them.
I have killed one soree, or ral, (I believe the word is so
spelled, without the i,) about a dozen ortolans, and, this
morning, a very fine whistling plover; the heaviest bird I
ever felt of his size. I shot him at the cow-pen, in company
with some kildees; and, after I had shot, a very large
flock rose, a few paces off—but I got no second opportunity.
We have, apparently, no woodcocks.
Adieu, dear Theodore!
I am, most truly,
Yours,
JOHN RANDOLPH, of Roanoke.
I receive your letters—but irregularly; two at a time. I
hope you have visited Mr. Cooper, and that he has seen Mr.
Crawford's letter on the subject of a certain affair that took
place at the close of the last session of congress. I sent a
copy of it to Mr. Clay, and requested that it might be shown
to Mr. Cooper. This is, probably, the last letter I shall
write from this place, until we meet again. I long to see
you once more. Carter desires his love. Beverley went to
Staunton on Wednesday. He has not been here two days
since June, all taken together—never two in succession.
