FROM THEODOSIA.
New-York, June 4, 1803.
Encore stupid. For Heaven's sake, what do you imagine I can find to say once a day that is worth saying, shut up thus, either tinkling on the harp or holding a tête-à-tête conversation? You must, indeed, have a high opinion of my genius and the fertility of my imagination.
Pray how do you advance? Heavy business, is it not? I beg you will perform your promise, and write me the history of it. I'll bind it in red morocco, and keep it for the advantage and instruction of the boy. Adieu. Do not forget my commission, and return soon.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Philadelphia, June 5, 1803.
I received yesterday your first letter. Pray no more apologies about your stupidity, &c., because on that subject I am perfectly informed. Be pleased to recollect that your letters cannot be answered the day they are received. We are now even. I wrote you on Friday.
I went this morning to see L. and Keene. The former, as usual, polite, friendly, and cheerful. The latter something improved by a very slight acquisition of embonpoint; so very slight, however, as not to be obvious to common optics. They will pass their summer at their present residence, and I have almost promised that you shall make them a visit.
But I should have narrated in the order of events according to their dates or in the order of the importance. Neither hath been observed, which argues ill of my temper of mind for the principal pursuit. Cette ——- spoils me. From that intercourse I return faintly to the line of duty. On Friday I saw the inamorata, and it happened as we had feared; for really I did not know whom I had the honour to address; nor could I, with certainty, discover during the interview, for I saw but one. The appearance was pleasing. There was something pensive and interesting. It exceeded my expectations. It was a visit of ceremony, and passed off as such. This day I met the whole four at dinner. My attentions were pointed, and met a cheerful return. There was more sprightliness than before. Le pere leaves town to-morrow for eight days, and I am now meditating whether to take the fatal step to-morrow. I falter and hesitate, which you know is not the way. I tremble at the success I desire. You will not know my determination till Wednesday. In the mean time I crave your prayers.