As soon as Tuesday evening came, I sent repeated messages to Cape's, who persevered in the answer of there being no letter. I slept ill; found my health much worse in the morning; rode out; in spite of exercise, continued ill till your dear letter was handed me. I immediately called for refreshment, and imagined I had recovered my health; my sensations still tell me so. Ten thousand thanks for the best prescription that ever physician invented. I ride daily; breakfasted with Clem. Clarke this morning, who has scarce a trait of himself. He neither knows nor cares for anybody but his son, who is three years and a half old, fair hair, but not handsome; much humoured; is introduced as a pet of the first value. Aunt more in temper than was expected. He dines here to-morrow with the two Blakes. I felt no other compulse to notice them than your wish.
Our little daughter's health has improved beyond my expectations. Your dear Theodosia cannot hear you spoken of without an apparent melancholy; insomuch that her nurse is obliged to exert her invention to divert her, and myself avoid to mention you in her presence. She was one whole day indifferent to every thing but your name. Her attachment is not of a common nature; though this was my opinion, I avoided the remark, when Mr. Grant observed it to me as a singular instance.
You see I have followed your example in speaking first of myself. I esteemed it a real trait of your affection, a sympathy in the feelings, the anxiety of your Theo., who had every fear for your health; more than you would allow her to express.
The garden wall is begun. I fear the front pavement will not answer your intention. I write you again tomorrow. Much love awaits thee. Thine, unchangeably,
THEODOSIA BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, 25th September, 1785.
Your dear letter of Saturday morning has just reached me. I was relieved, delighted, till the recollection of the storm you have since weathered took place. How have you borne it? Ten thousand fears alarm me. I pursued thee yesterday, through wind and rain, till eve, when, fatigued, exhausted, shivering, thou didst reach thy haven, surrounded with inattention, thy Theo. from thee. Thus agitated, I laid my head upon a restless pillow, turning from side to side, when thy kindred spirit found its mate. I beheld my much-loved Aaron, his tender eyes fixed kindly on me; they spake a body wearied, wishing repose, but not sick. This soothed my troubled spirit: I slept tolerably, but dare not trust too confidently. I hasten to my friend to realize the delightful vision; naught but thy voice can tranquillize my mind. Thou art the constant subject of love, hope, and fear. The girls bewail the sufferings of their dear papa; the boys wish themselves in his place; Frederick frets at the badness of the horse; wishes money could put him in thy stead. The unaffected warmth of his heart delights me. If aught can alleviate thy absence, 'tis these testimonies of gratitude and affection from the young and guileless to the best of parents. They feel the hand that blesses them, and love because they are blessed. Thy orders shall be attended to. Mamma joins in the warmest assurances of sincere affection. Theodosia and Sally in perfect health. Beyond expression,
Yours,