I think I will never again be so long without writing to you. It has been a daily and nightly reproach to me since the 8th of May, the date of the preceding part of this letter. The matter there spoken of seemed to be in so precarious a state, that I did not like to send you that page alone, and, in fact, knew not what to add to it. It is just so now; but from that day to this I have not seen La G., owing partly to accident and partly to apathy.
Your long and interesting letter of the 5th and 6th inst has been received. It shall be answered anon. In the mean time I repeat the injunction that you read, and in sequence. Study philosophy, if nothing should more allure you. Darwin and Harris you have; others I will send. Read over Shakspeare critically, marking the passages which are beautiful, absurd, or obscure. I will do the same, and one of these days we will compare. To improve your style and language is, however, the most interesting point. In this you will be aided by regaining your Latin. Gods! how much you might accomplish this year.
Miss Cruger, youngest daughter of the late widow Cruger, now Mrs.
Rogers, married two or three days ago to one of your Haywards, I think
William. A runaway job. La mere et beau pere bien fachés. How far
are you from Natalie?
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
New-York, June 11, 1804.
Your letter of the 14th of May is the last, and, I believe, unanswered, which is rather scandalous on both sides; but the letter of A.B.A., at the foot of yours, was far the most interesting. I have studied every pothook and trammel of his first literary performance, to see what rays of genius could be discovered. You remember our friend Schweitzer, nephew and pupil of Lavater. He used to insist that as much was to be inferred from the handwriting as from the face. I showed him a letter from a man of great fame, and he saw genius in every stroke. I then produced a letter from an arrant blockhead and great knave, but so like the other as not to be distinguished, at least by my unphysiognomical discernment. He acknowledged that there was resemblance to an ignorant eye; but, said he, triumphantly, this (latter) could never have made that scratch, which sybilistic scratch was the mere prolongation of the last letter of the last word in a sentence. Now it occurs to me that one of A.B.A.'s scratches is exactly in the line of genius according to Schweitzer; and surely more may be presumed from the instinctive effort of untutored infancy than from the laboured essay of scientific cultivation. To aid your observations in this line, I pray you to read Martinus Scriblerius. Mr. and Mrs. Hayward are happily living with the mother.
I am stationary (not paper, wax, and quills), but, adjectively speaking, unlocomotive. The affair of La G. has also been perfectly stationary since my last, the parties not having met; but hearing that La G. has expressed a sort of surprise, approaching to vexation, at this apathy, the other party has kindly promised an interview to-morrow. If it should take place, you will, in due time, know the result. Your permission or dissent is impatiently expected by