I have been here about a week, cher pere. Since your letter by Gibbs, have not received a line from you. I do not know whether to be most sorry or mad: a little of both troubles me at present; but, to punish you for your silence, I will not tell you which preponderates. Pray write to me immediately.
On the morning after writing to you in Charleston, I set off for the country, as determined on; and, since my arrival, have learned that Natalie was at my house in less than three hours after my departure. Sumter's business will not allow him time to come here, so that I shall go there. William drives me down in his curricle, and we shall set off to-day—this morning—now. The flat is in the canal; the curricle on board; my clothes not yet packed up; so good-by. Before I finish I must tell you that I have again heard from La Greque; she is astonishingly improved in appearance, so say others, and is very happy. She has sent me a Parisian bonnet, two beautiful handkerchiefs, and a pair of walking shoes. To the boy a French and English library; and to Mari a beautiful little golden candlestick, and wax tapers to light his segar.
My health is infinitely improved, and I attribute it to nothing but the continual bustle I have been kept in for three weeks past. What a charming thing a bustle is. Oh, dear, delightful confusion. It gives a circulation to the blood, an activity to the mind, and a spring to the spirits.
THEODOSIA.
TO THEODOSIA.
Washington, December 27, 1803.
Indeed, indeed, my dear little Theodosia, I will write to you very soon. Don't scold and pout so, and I will tell you how I visited Annapolis, and how I returned about an hour ago. All that, however, may be told in half a line. I went and returned in my own little coachee. But what I did and who I saw are other matters. Something, too, about Celeste, and something about Madame G., whom you are pleased to term the rich widow. This, I think, will keep you quiet a week.
Your letter, written on your return from seeing Natalie, is received. You are a dear good little girl to write me so; and of dear little gampy, too, so much, yet never enough. God bless thee.