FROM THEODOSIA.

New-York, June 4, 1803.

Encore stupid. For Heaven's sake, what do you imagine I can find to say once a day that is worth saying, shut up thus, either tinkling on the harp or holding a tete-a-tete conversation? You must, indeed, have a high opinion of my genius and the fertility of my imagination.

Pray how do you advance? Heavy business, is it not? I beg you will perform your promise, and write me the history of it. I'll bind it in red morocco, and keep it for the advantage and instruction of the boy.

Adieu. Do not forget my commission, and return soon.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 5, 1803.

I received yesterday your first letter. Pray no more apologies about your stupidity, &c., because on that subject I am perfectly informed.

Be pleased to recollect that your letters cannot be answered the day they are received. We are now even. I wrote you on Friday.

I went this morning to see L. and Keene. The former, as usual, polite, friendly, and cheerful. The latter something improved by a very slight acquisition of embonpoint; so very slight, however, as not to be obvious to common optics. They will pa.s.s their summer at their present residence, and I have almost promised that you shall make them a visit.

But I should have narrated in the order of events according to their dates or in the order of the importance. Neither hath been observed, which argues ill of my temper of mind for the princ.i.p.al pursuit. Cette ----- spoils me. From that intercourse I return faintly to the line of duty. On Friday I saw the inamorata, and it happened as we had feared; for really I did not know whom I had the honour to address; nor could I, with certainty, discover during the interview, for I saw but one.

The appearance was pleasing. There was something pensive and interesting. It exceeded my expectations. It was a visit of ceremony, and pa.s.sed off as such. This day I met the whole four at dinner. My attentions were pointed, and met a cheerful return. There was more sprightliness than before. Le pere leaves town to-morrow for eight days, and I am now meditating whether to take the fatal step to-morrow. I falter and hesitate, which you know is not the way. I tremble at the success I desire. You will not know my determination till Wednesday. In the mean time I crave your prayers.

I entreat you to ride about. Your monotonous life can never restore your health; nay, it is hostile to recovery. The business part of my journey a.s.sumes some importance, but the result is uncertain. Adieu.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 6, 1803.

The plot thickens, and I do not find it possible to communicate faithfully the details, without hazarding too much in case of loss of the letter. Something, however, may be said.

I called at the house this morning; before I had asked for any one in particular, the servant bid me in, and in a few minutes Inamorat sole appeared. This looked like secret understanding or sympathy; perhaps, however, it was only as head and representative of the family. She looked well; but, unfortunately, a trifling carelessness in dress had nearly concluded the farce. Recollecting, however, that they were packing up for a temporary removal, to take place this very day, an apology was obvious. Having made to myself the apology, I went further, and found that there was politeness, _at least_, in receiving me, and in so prompt an attendance under such circ.u.mstances. After ten minutes le pere came in; conversation became general, and I took leave.

Returning home, and pondering on the subject most profoundly for full five minutes, I boldly took up my pen, and wrote le pere that I wished a few minutes' conversation with him at his own house in the course of the day. Within an hour he was at _my room_ to receive the communication. Now paint to yourself a desperate miscreant on the point of committing self-murder, trembling with anxiety, choking for want of utterance, &c. Having formed the portrait to your own taste, I must tell you that there was no such figure. The salutations, on meeting, pa.s.sed as usual. An expression or two of sensibility to the courtesy which antic.i.p.ated so promptly the intended visit, and then some unembarra.s.sed direct questions and monosyllabic answers. "Is ----- under any engagement?" _None_. "Would it be agreeable to you that ----- should make overtures?" &c. _Certainly_. A very complimentary thing, however, was said by le pere. It was agreed that the suiter should make known his pretensions, he (le pere) declining to intermeddle. _End of the first act_.

I have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your two letters, both dated June 4. Evidently they cost you great labour.

June 7.

I left this open that I might acknowledge the receipt of one by this morning's mail. I am gratified to have it in my power. The accident to the harp has been very fortunate, inasmuch as it enabled you to make out a long letter on the subject. However it may be broken, nothing is so easy to be repaired. Kiss dear little _bang_.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 7, 1803.

As you were informed yesterday, my _Celeste_ has gone with the family (le pere excepted) to pa.s.s a fortnight six miles from town. I go to-morrow morning to recommend myself; and that no time may be wasted, and these six mile rides may not be too often repeated to no purpose, I shall not go much round about the subject, but come pretty directly to the point; of all which you will be duly informed.

Truly, if my head be as confused as my narrative, it will be of little use to me in the negotiation. I should have begun by relating what happened this morning. There are, however, two ways of telling a story. One by beginning with the oldest event, and so travelling down to the close of the tale, and this is the mode commonly used by philosophers and historians. The other, is by commencing with the most recent fact or earliest incident, which is the mode universally practised by lovers, and, generally, by poets. I could even quote Homer and Virgil as authorities in support of this latter method.

Further I may add, that this retro-progressive arrangement seems more congenial with the temper and feelings of the fair s.e.x. Thus, you see, most ladies turn first to the last chapter of a novel or romance. In defence of this practice I could dilate to the utmost extent of many sheets; but, intending soon to publish an essay on the subject, I leave for the present the residue to your reflections, and return to the interview of this morning.

I was admitted without hesitation, and was presently joined by Celeste, though I had not particularized any one as the object of my visit. For some minutes she led the conversation, and did it with grace and sprightliness, and with admirable good sense. I made several attempts to divert it to other subjects--subjects which might have nearer affinity, again, to others; unsuccessfully, however; yet, whether I was foiled through art or accident, I could not discover. Be a.s.sured she is much superior to l'ainee.

"I would be wooed, and, not unsought, be won."

So I conjectured she thought, and she was right.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 8, 1803.

I told you the negotiation should not be long. It is finished--concluded--for ever abandoned--_liber sum_. Celeste never means to marry; "firmly resolved." I am very sorry to hear it, madam; had promised myself great happiness, but cannot blame your determination. "No, certainly, sir, you cannot; for I recollect to have heard you express surprise that any woman would marry, &c., and you gave such reasons, and with so much eloquence, as made an indelible impression on my mind." Have you any commands to town, madam? I wish you a good-morning. _End of the second and last act_.

The interview was about an hour. Celeste was greatly agitated; behaved, however, with great propriety. The parting was full of courtesy, and there is reason to hope that there will be no hanging or drowning.

I dined to-day chez Rush. The two elder daughters are in Canada. The little Julia, now about ten, is growing up very lovely and _tres gentile_. Afterward called to see your friend, Mrs. Stewart, and her beautiful daughter. She is really beautiful. To-morrow I dine chez la Raz.

The law business goes on slowly; may be finished about Tuesday next, after which I shall hasten to those who love me, when I shall endeavour to rouse them from their lethargy, and give them a little zest for life. Just now I recollect that I have no letter from you this morning, at which I was confoundedly vexed. I stop, therefore, and shall withhold even this for a day, by way of punishment. You will say that you were not well, that you were engaged in company, that the servant neglected to take the letter, or some such trite thing. All nonsense. Bon soir.

Thursday morning.

Your letter of Tuesday, containing the history of the dinner, is received this morning. Truly, I think that Mr. and Mrs. Moore and Clem might, with any tolerable aid, have made the dinner gay. Mr. and Mrs.

Moore have both a great deal of wit, and are both well bred. Clem is by no means deficient. It must, therefore, have been the fault of yourself and husband. If the harp is not essentially injured, I would not purchase a new one. Kiss little _bang_.

A. BURR.

FROM THEODOSIA.

New-York, June 9, 1803.

I received yesterday your three letters of the 5th and 6th. They made me laugh, yet I pity you, and have really a fellow feeling for you.

Poor little Rippy, so you are mortgaged! But you bear it charmingly; do you think this courage will last, or is it only a spasm? Spasmodic love. It is really quite new. The trifling incident in relation to dress you must pardon. I am a _connoisseur_ in these things, and can a.s.sure you they are very pardonable.