After your return I hope indeed, that you will not be so immersed in business, as during the last three or four months past—for even money, taking into the account all the future comforts it is to procure, may be gained at too dear a rate, if painful impressions are left on the mind.—These impressions were much more lively, soon after you went away, than at present—for a thousand tender recollections efface the melancholy traces they left on my mind—and every emotion is on the same side as my reason, which always was on yours.—Separated, it would be almost impious to dwell on real or imaginary imperfections of character.—I feel that I love you; and, if I cannot be happy with you, I will seek it no where else.
My little darling grows every day more dear to me—and she often has a kiss, when we are alone together, which I give her for you, with all my heart.
I have been interrupted—and must send off my letter. The liberty of the press will produce a great effect here—the cry of blood will not be vain!—Some more monsters will perish—and the Jacobins are conquered.—Yet I almost fear the last slap of the tail of the beast.
I have had several trifling teazing inconveniencies here, which I shall not now trouble you with a detail of.—I am sending —— back; her pregnancy rendered her useless. The girl I have got has more vivacity, which is better for the child.
I long to hear from you.—Bring a copy of —— and —— with you.
—— is still here: he is a lost man.—He really loves his wife, and is anxious about his children; but his indiscriminate hospitality and social feelings have given him an inveterate habit of drinking, that destroys his health, as well as renders his person disgusting.—If his wife had more sense, or delicacy, she might restrain him: as it is, nothing will save him.
Yours most truly and affectionately
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