General Washington desired me to inform you that he will provide for you, and that he expects you will come to him immediately, and stay in his family. I should have acquainted you of this by letter, had I not expected to have seen you. You will now want your horse. I have sold him, and spent the money, and expect I shall not be able to refund it until my return.
I am, if I ever was,
Yours sincerely,
MATTHIAS OGDEN.
Before the preceding letter was received by Major Burr, he felt piqued at what he supposed the coldness and neglect of his friend Ogden, and, under the influence of such feelings, wrote the following:—
New-York, New-York, 18th Jane, 1776,
DEAR OGDEN,
A correspondence, which I flattered myself in former times was mutually agreeable, has of late somehow strangely found an end. You may remember, when you left Canada, I engaged to answer your first letter immediately, and to continue writing from that time, by every opportunity, as usual. I concluded your letters must have miscarried, and wrote you a line by Mr. Avery. I had no direct intelligence from you, till a verbal message by Mr. Duggan, the beginning of May. A few days after, I received a letter from Colonel Ogden by Colonel Allen. I should have answered it, but had determined to visit my native colony, and expected, by personal interview, to answer purposes which I scarce hoped the cold medium of ink and paper could effect.
That I unfortunately missed you on my way hither, I need not relate. At Albany I first heard you had passed me. I was upon the point of following you; but the character of troublesome fool struck me in so disagreeable a light, that, in spite of myself, I continued my journey.
There is in man a certain love of novelty; a fondness of variety (useful, indeed, within proper limits), which influences more or less in almost every act of life. New views, new laws, new friends, have each their charm. Truly great must be the soul, and firm almost beyond the weakness of humanity, that can withstand the smiles of fortune. Success, promotion, the caresses of the great, and the flatteries of the low, are sometimes fatal to the noblest minds. The volatile become an easy prey. The fickle heart, tiptoe with joy, as from an eminence, views with contempt its former joys, connexions, and pursuits. A new taste contracted, seeks companions suited to itself. But pleasures easiest tasted, though perhaps at first of higher glee, are soonest past, and, the more they are relied upon, leave the severer sting behind. One cloudy day despoils the glow-worm of all its glitter.