MY DEAR BURR,

The account I have given of my situation is far from a fiction. You will find it a pleasing reality when you come here, which I suppose you will postpone till you see me, as I have no doubt at present that the second division of the French fleet has arrived, with a re-enforcement of 4000 troops. This event will render it necessary for me to be ready to move at a moment's warning; and, presuming there will be no delay in commencing our operations, I think, in the course of a fortnight, or three weeks at most, I shall be at Paramus.

Will your health permit you to join the army? I fear not. Fatigue and bad weather may ruin it. I confess I am much disappointed in my opinion of the mineral waters. From your letters, I conclude the stock of health you have gained since I left you is scarcely perceptible.

Something else must be tried. Life is precious, and demands every exertion and sacrifice to preserve it. Mr. Paterson and I have often spoken together on this subject, and we both agree that a ride to the southward next winter, and a trip to the West Indies in the spring, would be of infinite service to you. This might be done with ease in five or six months.

Mrs. Paterson is perfectly recovered, and her little girl grows finely, and promises to be handsome. Mrs. Paterson often asks about you, and seems anxious to have you among us. When you come, remember to bring with you the book you took with you on our way to Paramus. I believe it is an essay on health. Mrs. Paterson wants it, the idea you gave me of her is just. She is easy, polite, sensible, and friendly.

Paterson is rather deficient in the graces, but he possesses every virtue that enters into the composition of an amiable character.

I can hardly go out anywhere without being asked a number of questions about you. You seem to be universally known and esteemed. Mr. Morris's family are exceedingly particular in their inquiries concerning your health. It would be easier for you to conceive, than for me to tell you, how much they like you. They insist upon our paying them a visit as soon as you are settled here, which I have promised, on your part as well as my own.

Let me entreat you to avoid engaging any of your French books in Connecticut, especially Chambaud's Exercises, to any person whatever.

I, and perhaps you, will stand in need of them all.

I am greatly indebted to the good family for their favourable sentiments, which, as I said once before, must proceed more from affection to you than what they find meritorious in me. I am certain, however, that their esteem for me cannot exceed mine for them, and this you will be kind enough to hint to them when you present my respectful compliments. a.s.sure Dom. Tetard of my friendship for him, and fixed determination to use all endeavours to metamorphose him into a Cra.s.sus after the war is ended. Adieu

ROBERT TROUP.

Footnotes:

1. Late President of the United States.

2. The residence of Mrs. Prevost.

3. Continental paper dollars--equal in value to _sixty for one silver dollar_.

4. Judge Tappan Reeve, whose lady was the sister of Colonel Burr.

5. The sister of Mrs. Prevost

6. Deputy quartermaster-general; subsequently commissary for the French army, and treasurer of the state of Connecticut.

7. Printer to the king in the city of New-York.

CHAPTER XIII.

FROM WILLIAM PATERSON.

Morristown, 27th August, 1780.

MY DEAR BURR,

I was not at Rariton when the doctor, who was the bearer of your letter, pa.s.sed that way. It would have given me pleasure to have shown him every mark of attention and esteem in my power.

I dare say you count it an age since I have written you; and, indeed, I must confess that the time has been long. Your good-nature, however, will induce you to forgive me, although I cannot expect it from your justice. I hope the water you drink will prove medicinal, and soon restore you to health; although I am more disposed to think that it will take time, and be effected gradually. Persons indisposed (I speak from experience) are generally impatient to become well, and that very impatience has a natural tendency to prevent it. Do not be restless, my dear Burr; nor think that, because you do not get well in a month, or in a season, you will not get well at all. The heat of this summer has been intense, nor is it as yet much abated. Perhaps that too may have had some effect upon you. The hale and hearty could scarcely bear up under it. May health soon visit you, my good friend.

Mrs. Paterson is well. Our little pledge, a girl, Burr, [1] has been much indisposed, but is at present on the mending hand. I am from home as usual. My official duty obliges me to be so. I grow quite uneasy under it, and I find ease and retirement necessary for the sake of my const.i.tution, which has been somewhat broken in upon by unceasing attention to business. The business has been too much for me. I have always been fond of solitude, and, as it were, of _stealing_ along through life. I am now sufficiently fond of domestic life. I have every reason to be so. Indeed, I know no happiness but at home. Such one day will be your situation.

My compliments to the family at the Hermitage. I shall write you before I leave this place.

Yours, &c.

WILLIAM PATERSON.

FROM WILLIAM PATERSON.

Morristown, 31st August, 1780.

MY DEAR BURR,

It is now near the midnight hour, and yet, late as it is, I could not acquit myself to my conscience if I had not again written you before I left this place, which will be early tomorrow. My life is quite in the militant style--one continued scene of warfare. From this place I go down to the Supreme Court at Trenton, which will be on Tuesday next, and the Tuesday after that I shall return once more to Morristown, and when I shall leave it will be uncertain. I rejoice when the hour of rest comes up, and sicken at the approach of day. Business fairly bears me down. The truth is, that I am tired of writing, tired of reading, tired of bustling in a crowd, and, by fits, heartily tired of myself.

I hope you go on gaining strength, and that you will in a little while get the better of your disorder. The mind and the body affect each other extremely. To a person in your state, hilarity, cheerfullness, a serene flow of spirits, are better than all the drugs in a doctor's shop. Gentle exercise is of infinite service. I hope you are not wanting in any of these. If you are, I cannot easily pardon you, because they are all within your power.

Make my compliments acceptable to the family at the Hermitage. I have a high regard for them, and sincerely wish their happiness. I really pity and admire Mrs. Prevost. Her situation demands a tear; her conduct and demeanour the warmest applause. Tell Mrs. Prevost that she must remember me among her friends; and that I shall be happy to render her all the service in my power.

Since I have been at this place I have had a letter from Mrs.

Paterson, who is well. Our little girl, who was indisposed when I left home, is not worse. I flatter myself I shall find her better when I return. Alas, that I cannot be more at home. A husband and a parent have a thousand tendernesses that you know nothing of. Adieu, my dear Burr; live and be happy.

WILLIAM PATERSON.

FROM COLONEL TROUP.

Morristown, October 23d, 1780.

MY DEAREST FRIEND,

I want words to express the pleasure I feel at the receipt of yours of the 22d, by the boy who came for your horse. It relieved me from a burden which had sunk my spirits lower than I recollect them to have been by any calamity I have met with during the war. My imagination had crowded my mind with a thousand melancholy reflections from the moment I got your letter by Dr. Cutting, who, like a modern well-bred gentleman, left it at my lodgings only three days ago. Some evil genius certainly interrupts our correspondence. I write letters without number, and yet you seldom hear from me, and when you do, the letter is as old as if it had come from the other side of the Atlantic. It is exactly the case with yours.

Mr. Paterson has been more unfortunate than I. He has often complained of your neglect, as he thought it; but I informed him of the fate my letters shared, and he was easy. However, he desired me last night to give you a hint, that he had lately written you several long letters without receiving an answer to either. He is now at Princeton, attending court. I shall forward your letter that accompanied mine to him by a safe conveyance. Paterson really loves you with the tenderest affection, and can scarcely speak of your state of health without shedding a friendly tear. As G.o.d is my judge, I could not forbear shedding several when I read yours by Dr. Cutting, which is the first I have had from you in near five weeks. I was afraid all farther attempts to recover your health, so as to qualify you to execute our plan, would be fruitless. In short, I thought you on the brink of eternity, ready to take your final farewell of this wrangling world.

The critical situation of your sister increased my distress, and extinguished every hope. How much more happy should I be if your sister's health took the same fortunate turn. Your ride to Litchfield must be doubly agreeable, as it will tend to establish your health and better hers.

I must now communicate to you a disagreeable piece of news respecting myself. It shows how rare it is to find a man of real disinterested benevolence. Sears and Broome, I understand by Mr. Noel, who returned from Philadelphia a few days ago, have protested the bill I drew upon them last summer. Colonel Palfrey bought it, and has it returned to him, for what reasons I cannot say positively, but I suspect they are determined not to a.s.sist me, although they were lavish of their offers when they supposed I never would be reduced to the necessity of accepting them. Such conduct is characteristic of excessive meanness of spirit, and I confess I am deceived in my opinion of them most egregiously. True it is, that instances of this kind of behaviour often occur in our intercourse with mankind; but, from the fortunes these men have made since the war, and the frequent reports of their generosity, I was led to imagine there was something more than mere idle compliment and ostentatious parade in their offers. I was deceived, and I hope it will be the last time. This affair has wounded my pride so sensibly, that I shall be extremely cautious in future. I must and will endeavour to adopt some mode of drawing supplies from my certificates, which will be three years old next spring, and therefore ought to be taken up by Congress By the table of depreciation published by Congress to regulate the payment of the princ.i.p.al of their certificates, I am ent.i.tled to three hundred and fifty pounds, at the very lowest calculation, and this sum in specie.

When you come here you must exert all your abilities in finance, to make me no longer dependant upon the bounty of friends; or rather, I should say, your bounty, for you are the only person I have borrowed money of. Till that time, my dear friend, can you keep me above water, and do justice to yourself? Will you be able to extricate me from the difficulties attending this bill? In plain terms, can you spare me the amount of it? My reputation suffers by having the bill protested, and I must, in a short time, send the money to Colonel Palfrey, for I am persuaded I have no farther ground to expect the least a.s.sistance from Sears and Broome. Fail not, by any means, to write me on this subject before you leave Paramus, and be careful how you send the letter.

There is nothing but your health and my poverty that r.e.t.a.r.ds my progress in study. They are fruitful sources of disquietude. When I lay me down to sleep, they often prevent me from closing my eyes. When I look into a book, they present a variety of melancholy images to my imagination, and unfit me for improvement In all other respects I am situated to my wishes: Paterson treats me as a bosom friend. He has gone so far as to press me in the warmest terms to command his purse.

How I shall be able to requite your friendship is a matter beyond my penetration. I declare, before the Searcher of all hearts, that I consider your happiness and welfare as inseparable from my own, and that no vicissitudes of fortune, however prosperous or calamitous they may be, will ever tear you from my heart. Circ.u.mstanced as I now am, words are the only proofs I can give you of my grat.i.tude and affection. Time will prove whether they are the cant of hypocrisy or the language of esteem.