FROM WILLIAM PATERSON.
Morristown, 27th August, 1780.
MY DEAR BURR,
I was not at Rariton when the doctor, who was the bearer of your letter, passed that way. It would have given me pleasure to have shown him every mark of attention and esteem in my power.
I dare say you count it an age since I have written you; and, indeed, I must confess that the time has been long. Your good-nature, however, will induce you to forgive me, although I cannot expect it from your justice. I hope the water you drink will prove medicinal, and soon restore you to health; although I am more disposed to think that it will take time, and be effected gradually. Persons indisposed (I speak from experience) are generally impatient to become well, and that very impatience has a natural tendency to prevent it. Do not be restless, my dear Burr; nor think that, because you do not get well in a month, or in a season, you will not get well at all. The heat of this summer has been intense, nor is it as yet much abated. Perhaps that too may have had some effect upon you. The hale and hearty could scarcely bear up under it. May health soon visit you, my good friend.
Mrs. Paterson is well. Our little pledge, a girl, Burr, [1] has been much indisposed, but is at present on the mending hand. I am from home as usual. My official duty obliges me to be so. I grow quite uneasy under it, and I find ease and retirement necessary for the sake of my constitution, which has been somewhat broken in upon by unceasing attention to business. The business has been too much for me. I have always been fond of solitude, and, as it were, of stealing along through life. I am now sufficiently fond of domestic life. I have every reason to be so. Indeed, I know no happiness but at home. Such one day will be your situation.
My compliments to the family at the Hermitage. I shall write you before I leave this place.
Yours, &c.