Bartow, &c., are well. Mrs. Allen better. Mrs. Brockbolst Livingston dead. Mrs. Van Ness has this day a son. Thus, you see, the rotation is preserved, and the balance kept up.
There are no swaar apples this year; some others you shall have, and "a set of cheap chimney ornaments." I have not asked the price, but not exceeding eight hundred dollars! Did you take away "The man of Nature?" I proposed to have sent that with some others to L. N., but you have thus marred the project.
Since I began this letter I am summoned to leave town two hours before daylight to-morrow morning, to return next day, when I shall know definitely the result of the sale, which, indeed, is the object of the journey. On my return I passed a day with M. A. Monsieur is cold, formal, monotonous, repulsive. Gods! what a mansion is that bosom for the sensitive heart of poor M. Lovely victim! I wish she would break her pretty little neck. Yet, on second thought, would it not be better that he break his? He is often absent days and weeks. She has not seen the smoke of a city in five years; but this is dull. I had something more cheerful to say; this, however, came first, and would have place. And here am I, at midnight, talking such stuff to bagatelle, and twenty unanswered letters of vast importance before me! Get to bed, you hussy.
A. BURR.
November 5.
This letter was nicely sealed up and laid on my table; late last night I returned from the country, and found the letter just where I left it. Very surprising! This was so like my dear self, that I laughed and opened it, to add that Richmond Hill will probably be sold within ten days for one hundred and forty thousand dollars, which, though not half the worth, is enough and more.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
New-York, November 9, 1801.
This fine day brings me your two letters from Raleigh and Fayetteville, 28th and 30th of October. It is quite consoling to find that you will have taken the precaution to inquire the state of health before you venture your precious carcass into Charleston. A fever would certainly mistake you for strangers, and snap at two such plump, ruddy animals as you were when you left New-York.