Jerome Bonaparte, wife, maids of honour (Miss Spear et al.), &c., &c., will be here to-morrow. There are various opinions about the expediency, policy, decency, propriety, and future prospects of this match. I adhere to Mrs. Caton. To be sure the French laws say something on this subject. As you are a learned lady, I will not say what; but, if you avow ignorance, you shall have all I know: not in my next, for Annapolis is yet on hand. Indeed, matters thicken so fast, that I may possibly leave this within twenty days to go northward, without saying a word about it. I hope the shawl (or cloak) has arrived safe, and that it may be so displayed as to add beauty to grace and grace to beauty.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Washington, January 4th or 5th, 1804.
How could I forget to tell you the very important event of the marriage of Jerome Bonaparte with Miss Patterson.
It took place on Saturday, the 24th ult. Mrs. Caton approves of this match, and therefore A. B. does, for he respects greatly the opinions of Mrs. Caton.
I like much your reasoning about Morris's place and Richmond Hill. Yet would not a permanent residence in town for some, for many, for all reasons, be better? La G. is much better than I had heard—d'un certaine age, and well-looking, considering that circumstance. Cheerful, good-tempered, the best of housewives, and, as it is thought, willing.
Celeste—(for this I begin a new line) Celeste will be seen on the way home, but that La R. spoils every thing in that place. La Planche; that you will never find out. I bet you thirty guineas against M'K.'s shawl. By-the-by, the shawl is ordered on; at this moment, perhaps, on the perilous ocean, and unensured. La Planche, I say, was seen on our way hither. All right and pretty; improved since the last inspection. Great friend of La R.; tant pis. Lex et ux. ill suited; mischief brewing. Gamp, the mutual friend and confidant.
Now for the trip to Annapolis. No, not now either. It is past two o'clock in the morning (no matter of what day, for I don't intend to date this, seeing it will equally suit all dates), and I am (not) sleepy. Yet I will go to bed, and not be kept up by any such baggage. So good-morning. Poor little Natalie, I have not written her a line. What's the matter I don't write to Natalie any more? I say I will go to bed. The fire is out, and I have no wood.