TO THEODOSIA.
Washington, February 26, 1802.
The arrival of your letter of the 14th justifies me in noticing you by this mail. Your newspapers of the same date, and also of the 15th, contain particulars of the races; but so technically expressed that I comprehend nothing of it. Your story is quite intelligible as far forth as it is legible. I am very glad that Papa Alston has won once. It is, I am told, the first time in his life. Where is Hampton all this while, that you say nothing of him? Already I have told you that on the 4th of March I shall say something of the adjournment, if, in the mean time, you behave well. I shall not go first to New-York. Send back your chairs. General Smith's carriage has just ran away with four ladies, viz.: Mrs. Smith, Miss Speare, Miss Smith, and Mrs. Law. Miss Smith was taken up dead, and brought home dead. After twenty-five minutes she began to show signs of life. In two hours she began to know those about her, and now (three hours) she is perfectly well; and having been stripped and thoroughly examined, it cannot be discovered that she has received the slightest injury, save being frightened to death, as before mentioned. Miss Speare came off unhurt. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Law are much bruised. You will, I hope, understand that the horses ran off with the carriage, and not that the carriage, of its own mere motion, ran off with the ladies. Adieu.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Washington, February 27, 1802.
Last evening Eustis happened in my room while I was at Smith's (opposite); he saw the cover of your letter, and the few lines which it contains. He wrote what you will find enclosed, and left it on my table. His cure is radical; that which I recommend is temporary.
A dull, raw, misty, vile day. Mrs. Law confined to her bed, as I expected, but not dangerous. The Smiths doing pretty well.
The judiciary bill debating in the House of Representatives, being the last day of the second week devoted exclusively to that subject. It may and it may not be finished next week. When this shall be done with, we may be able to make some sort of calculation as to the duration of the session.
Your last letter is pleasant and cheerful. Careless, incorrect, slovenly, illegible. I dare not show a sentence of it even to Eustis. God mend you.