ROBERT TROUP.
TO WILLIAM PATERSON.
Middletown, February 16th, 1780.
Your friendly letter of September has at length found its way to me. I am once more a recluse. It accords with my feelings. I should doubtless be happier if I enjoyed perfect health and the society of a friend like you; but why do I say like you? No likeness could compensate for the absence of the original.
I am something at a loss how to regulate my motions for the coming summer. The prospect of peace is still distant. It is an object of importance with me to be not only secure from alarms, but remote from the noise of war. My present situation promises at least those advantages. Perhaps yours does equally. Events only can determine.
My health, which was till of late very promising, seems to decline a little. This circumstance will oblige me to alter my course of life. I shall be in your state in May or June, perhaps sooner. If you have a prospect of tranquillity, I Shall have no thought of returning. Colonel Troup, a worthy, sensible young fellow, and a particular friend of mine, wishes to know where I shall prosecute my studies, and is determined, he says, to be my companion. A gentleman who has been long eminent at your bar, and whom we both know perfectly well, had made Troup some polite offers of his service as an instructor. He was pleased with the scheme, and as he knew the gentleman was professedly my friend, urged me to put myself also under his tuition. I mentioned to him in a late letter the objections which had been decisive with me, and I fancy he will view them in the same light. He is the companion I would wish in my studies. He is a better antidote for the spleen than a ton of drugs. I am often a little inclined to hypo.
My best respects attend Mrs. Paterson. Speak of her in your letters. I would not feel indifferent to one so near to you, even if no personal acquaintance had confirmed my esteem. You would have heard from me sooner, but no post has rode this fortnight. I have been pursuing the track you marked out for me, though not with the ardour I could wish. My health will bear no imposition. I am obliged to eat, drink, sleep, and study, as it directs. No such restraint interrupts your bliss. May you feel no bonds but those of love and friendship—no rules but those that lead to happiness. Adieu.
Yours sincerely,