Chester, May, 1785.
I strayed this morning for an hour or two in the woods, where I lay on a rock to enjoy the wild retreat. The cheerfullness of all around me led me to ask why all animated nature enjoyed its being but man? Why man alone is discontented, anxious—sacrificing the present to idle expectations;—expectations which, if answered, are in like manner sacrificed. Never enjoying, always hoping? Answer, tu mihi magna Apollo. I would moralize, but time—and my companions are coming in. Let me hear of your health. Avoid all fatigue. Judge Yates proposes to come down with me. Quoi faire?
My good landlady is out of tea, and begs me to send for a pound. Put it up very well. I am in better health than spirits. Adieu.
A. BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, May, 1785.
I am vexed that I did not inquire your route more particularly. I cannot trace you in imagination, nor find your spirit when at rest; nor dare I count the hours to your return. They are still too numerous, and add to my impatience. I expect my reward in the health you acquire. If it should prove otherwise, how I shall hate my acquiescence to your departure. I anticipate good or evil as my spirits rise or fall; but I know no medium; my mind cannot reach that stage of indifference. I fancy all my actions directed by you; this tends to spur my industry, and give calm to my leisure.
The family as you left it. Bartow never quits the office, and is perfectly obliging. Your dear little daughter seeks you twenty times a day; calls you to your meals, and will not suffer your chair to be filled by any of the family.
Judge Hobart called here yesterday; says you are absent for a month. I do not admit that among possibilities, and therefore am not alarmed. I feel obliged to Mr. Wickham for his delay, though I dare not give scope to my pen; my heart dictates too freely. O, my Aaron! how many tender, grateful things rush to my mind in this moment; how much fortitude do I summon to suppress them! You will do justice to their silence; to the inexpressible affection of your plus tendre amie.
Bartow has been to the surveyor-general; he cannot inform him the boundaries of those lots for J. W. There is no map of them but one in Albany.