University of Virginia Library

LETTER LXXIV.

Contrary to my expectation, I address another letter
to you from this place, (written, for want of paper, on
the cover of your own of the 12th, which the post-boy has
just handed to me.) Just as I was preparing to set out, poor
Carter was taken sick, and I am too strongly bound to him,
by his kind attentions to myself and family, to think of
leaving him, under such circumstances. His disease (a mild
form of autumnal fever) has yielded to a single dose of calomel.
The night before last, just as he had fallen asleep,
and I was watching by his bed-side, Tudor arrived, to my
great comfort and relief. Beverley, who went to Staunton
a fortnight ago, has not yet returned. Tudor left your sister,
his mother, and brother, in good health. Yesterday
John Morton and Mr. Tucker (Henry, brother of George,)
arrived; and to-day we broke the Sabbath, according to the
estimation of puritans. When I had killed one ortolan and
three partridges, the rain drove us in, about ten o'clock.

Be assured, my dear Theodore, that your letter, which
now lies before me, verifies, most strikingly, the truth of the

Rambler's remark. Our pleasure, then, is mutual: may it
be ever thus between us, my son! May our connexion be
to you, as it has been to me, productive only of satisfaction,
as little alloyed as any human enjoyment can be. It has
been to me a source of comfort and consolation that I would
not exchange for all the dignities and kingdoms of this
world.

It gives me great pleasure to find that your health is better,
and that the tone of your spirits is somewhat restored,
after their late severe shock from the loss of our dear
friend, poor Mr. Clay! Time, I trust, will do the rest. If
I were a younger man, I should almost envy you the pleasure
of seeing my friend, Cooper, on the stage. As
it is, I rejoice that you have a resource against tedium
and lassitude, at once so rational and delightful: one which,
dulled as my powers of perception are, by a long, hackneyed
journey through life, I could yet relish with no common
zest. While such recreations are within your reach,
(to say nothing of the ladies,) I have no fear (even were my
confidence in your taste and principles less than it is) of
your falling into any unworthy and degrading courses. Of
all the remedies for ennui, dissipation is the least efficient,
and the most destructive of the moral as well as the physical
constitution of man. Yet we are, all of us, more the
creatures of circumstances, than the pride of human nature
is willing to allow. Haud inexperto loquor. I have
known what it is to be cast upon a wide world, without a
friend or counsellor, or opportunity, to waste my capacity
(such as it was) in idleness, my fortune in extravagance, and
my health in excess.

The superscription of your letter admonishes me to conclude.
I have no objection—far otherwise—to your going
to New York, if your finances will furnish the means. I
take shame to myself that they are so low: but I have been
going to Richmond every week for some months back.
When there, I shall replenish your exchequer. If you go,
apprize me of your address. My best regards to Mrs. Clay

and all her good family. Speak to Mr. Croskey about the
picture.