In the autumn of 1781, as may be seen by the preceding correspondence, Colonel Burr was in Albany, preparing himself for admission to the bar. Judge Yates rendered him essential service on the occasion. His friendship and kindness were appreciated, and gratefully recollected. At that time Chief-justice Richard Morris, Robert Yates, and John Sloss Hobart composed the bench of the Supreme Court of the State of New-York. All these gentlemen were friendly to Burr, and treated him with the utmost courtesy; but for Judge Yates he entertained, during the continuance of his life, the most profound respect and veneration.
By the rules of the court it was required that candidates for admission should have pursued a course of legal studies not less than three years previous to presenting themselves for examination. Colonel Burr applied to the court to dispense with this rule in his case. The application was opposed with great zeal by all the members of the bar; and, as no counsellor would make the necessary motion on the subject, Burr was not only compelled to do it himself, but to argue the question with the ablest of the profession.
After hearing the argument, the court determined that, as he had been employed in the service of his country, when he might, under other circumstances, have been a law-student, they would dispense with the rigour of the rule so far as it applied to the period of study; but that no indulgence would be granted in reference to the necessary qualifications. In pursuance of this decision he underwent a severe and critical examination by some of the most eminent members of the bar, who were anxious for his rejection. The examination, however, resulted in a triumphant admission that the candidate was duly qualified to practise; and he was accordingly licensed as an attorney, on the 19th day of January, 1782. And at "a supreme court of judicature, held for the State of New-York, at the City Hall of the city of Albany, on the 17th day of April, 1782, Aaron Burr having, on examination, been found of competent ability and learning to practise as counsellor," it was ordered that he be accordingly admitted.
Soon after Colonel Burr commenced the practice of law in the city of Albany, he invited his friend and brother soldier, Major W. Popham, to join him, and pursue a course of legal studies. This invitation was given with his accustomed kindness. About the period of Burr's marriage, Major Popham replies.
FROM MAJOR W. POPHAM [1]
Fishkill, August 16th, 1782
Yesterday I was accidentally favoured with your friendly letter of the 3d of May, from Litchfield, which was peculiarly agreeable, as it contained the first official accounts I have had of you since my leaving Albany, and dispelled a train of gloomy reflections which your supposed long silence had suggested.
The approbation you have given of my conduct, in an affair in which you have so generously interested yourself, is very flattering. A detail of the circumstances which rendered it necessary to postpone the prosecution of my intended plan, would be too prolix for the subject of a letter. They would not present one pleasing reflection; and I love you too well to give you pain. Suspend, therefore, your curiosity and your opinion, until the duties of the field permit me to see you, when you shall be satisfied.
I hope the alterations you have made in your plan of life may equal your most sanguine wishes. I am pleased that you have taken a house in Albany, and sincerely congratulate you on an event that promises you so much happiness. May you long enjoy all the blessings which can flow from that happy state, for which Heaven has so remarkably designed you.
But why am I requested to "say nothing about obligations," while you continue to load me with new ones? Or, why should I be denied the common privilege of every liberal mind, that of acknowledging the obligation which I have not the power of cancelling? Yes, my friend, your generous offer claims my warmest thanks; but the very principle which excites my gratitude forbids me to accept it. Dr. L informs me you have written twice to me. One of the letters is lost. Will you speedily supply the deficiency? If you can spare an hour from business, retirement, or love, let me entreat you to devote it to your friend. I cannot tell you how much I long to hear from you. Adieu.
Yours sincerely,
W. POPHAM.
To Mrs. Prevost.
Albany, December 23d, 1781.
My dear Theodosia is now happy by the arrival of Carlos. This was not wishing you a happy Christmas, but actually making it so. Let all our compliments be henceforth practical. The language of the world sounds fulsome to tastes refined by the sweets of affection.
I see mingle in the transports of the evening the frantic little Bartow. [2] Too eager to embrace the bliss he has in prospect; frustrating his own purposes by inconsiderate haste; misplacing every thing, and undoing what he meant to do. It will only confuse you. Nothing better can be done than to tie him, in order to expedite his own business. That you might not be cheerful alone, I have obeyed the orders of your heart (for you cannot, even at this distance, conceal them) by a determination to take a social, friendly supper with Van Rensselaer.
You wrote me too much by Dom. I hope it was not from a fear that I should be dissatisfied with less. It is, I confess, rather singular to find fault with the quantity, when matter and manner are so delightful. You must, however, deal less in sentiments and more in ideas. Indeed, in the letter in answer to my last, you will need to be particularly attentive to this injunction. I think constantly of the approaching change in our affairs, and what it demands. Do not let us, like children, be so taken with the prospect as to lose sight of the means.
Remember to write me facts and ideas, and don't torment me with compliments, or yourself with sentiments to which I am already no stranger. Write but little, and very little at once. I do not know for what reason, Theodosia, but I cannot feel my usual anxiety about your health, though I know you to be ill, and dangerously so. One reason is, that I have more belief in your attention to yourself.
Your idea about the water was most delightful. It kept me awake a whole night, and led to a train of thoughts and sensations which cannot be described. Indeed, the whole of your letter was marked with a degree of confidence and reliance which augurs every thing that is good. The French letter was truly elegant, as also that enclosed in compliance with my request.
If Reeves has received the money upon the order I gave him, he may send me by Carlos about twenty-five guineas, if he can spare so much of it. I am in no present want.
Pardon me for not answering your last. My mind is so engrossed by new views and expectations, that I cannot disengage it. I have not, these five days past, slept more than two hours a night, and yet feel refreshed and well. Your presentiments of my illness on a certain evening were wide from truth: believe me, you have no talent that way. Leave it to others.
I think, if you keep Carlos two nights, it will serve; but keep him longer rather than fatigue yourself. Adieu.
A. BURR.
On the 2d of July, 1782, Colonel Burr was married to Mrs. Theodosia Prevost. In April preceding he had entered into the practice of the law in the city of Albany. His attention to business was unremitted. In consequence, he soon found himself crowded with clients from every quarter of the state. During his residence in Albany, his mind was exclusively engrossed with his profession and his family. In the education of Mrs. Burr's children by her first husband he took a deep interest. Neither labour nor expense was regarded. It was his wish that they should be accomplished, as well as educated men.
The preliminary treaty of peace having been signed, Colonel Burr resolved to remove his family to the city of New-York so soon as the British should evacuate it. Here he anticipated (and in this he was not disappointed) an extensive practice. On the 20th of November, 1781, the legislature of the State of New-York passed an act disqualifying from practice, in the courts of the state, all "attorneys, solicitors, and counsellors at law," who could not produce satisfactory certificates, showing their attachment and devotion to the whig cause during the then pending war with Great Britain. This act was in full force at the peace of 1783, and remained so, without any attempt to modify it, until March, 1785, when a bill was introduced into the legislature to repeal certain sections of it, so far as they operated upon individuals therein named. The bill was lost. But, on the 4th of April, 1786, the restriction thus imposed on the tory lawyers was removed by an act of the legislature.
The law of 1781, previous to its repeal, had operated most favourably for the Whig lawyers. Those of talents and standing, such as Colonel Burr and others, had obtained a run of business which enabled them to compete with the most profound of their tory rivals.
It was supposed that the British troops would evacuate the city of New-York in the spring or early in the summer of 1783; but they remained until the 25th of November of that year. Colonel Burr applied to his friend, Thomas Bartow, to procure him a house for the accommodation of his family, which he accordingly did.
FROM MR. BARTOW.
New-York, April 16th, 1783
DEAR SIR,
I received your agreeable favour a few days ago, and am happy to congratulate you on the establishment of a peace: hope I shall soon have the pleasure of seeing you in town. I have procured you a good house in Maiden-lane, at the rate of two hundred pounds a year. The rent to commence when the troops leave the city. Doctor Brown can inform you more particulars about it, as he went with me to view it. Before I engaged this house, I consulted Mrs. Clark She proposed her house in Broadway, but could not get the tenant out, so that she gave her consent to this.
Very respectfully yours,
THOMAS BARTOW.
FROM MRS. BURR.
Albany, 25th March, 1783.
Some think absence tends to increase affection; the greater part that it wears it away. I believe neither, but that it only tends to prove how far the heart is capable of loving; or rather, whether it is real or imaginary. When the latter, every object that amuses, blots out the idea of the absent, we find that they are not so necessary to our happiness as we had fancied. But when that love is real, what can amuse, what engage the mind, to banish, for a single instant, the object of its delight? It hates every necessity that wrests it an instant from the contemplation of its beauties; its virtues are ever presenting themselves to increase our regret, and suggest innumerable fears for its safety. Such have been the occupations of this day. I tremble at every noise: new apprehensions are ever alarming me. Every tender sensation is awake to thee.
26th March.
My extreme anxiety operated severely upon my health. I have not had so ill a turn in some months. The remedies of S. prove but little more efficacious than those of G. I do without either. Various are the conjectures respecting your errand. All think me of the party. My spirits need, my heart grows impatient for your return. Every countenance speaks for you, while Theodosia grieves.
27th March.
My health is rather better. I have just this moment heard of General Schuyler's going; have only time to tell you I rejoice at the enclosed. It will save your hurry and anxiety Popham has written and engaged for your attendance.
THEODOSIA BURR
When the British were about to evacuate the city of New-York, and it was ascertained that Colonel Burr had made the necessary arrangements to settle there, his whig friends became anxious that he should receive an appointment. Among those who urged this measure was Judge Hobart, who had ever entertained an exalted opinion of his talents and business habits. As soon as Colonel Burr was informed of the friendly views entertained by the judge, he wrote him, expressing his unwillingness to be considered a competitor with any gentleman for an appointment. To this he received an answer.
FROM JUDGE HOBART.
June 17th, 1783.
SIR,
Your favour has been received. However pure your views may be, I fear you must be contented with the character of a private gentleman so long as you determine to avoid a competition; for I am told there are long lists of applicants for all the offices in the city and county of New-York.
With great respect, yours,
JOHN SLOSS HOBART.
FROM MRS. BURR.
Albany, August 14th, 1783.
How unfortunate, my dearest Aaron, is our present separation. I never shall have resolution to consent to another. We must not be guided by others. We are certainly formed of different materials; and our undertakings must coincide with them.
A few hours after I wrote you by Colonel Lewis, our sweet infant [3] was taken ill, very ill. My mind and spirits have been on the rack from that moment to this. When she sleeps, I watch anxiously; when she wakes, anxious fears accompany every motion. I talked of my love towards her, but I knew it not till put to this unhappy test. I know not whether to give her medicine or withhold it: doubt and terror are the only sensations of which I am sensible. She has slept better last night, and appears more lively this morning, than since her illness. This has induced me to postpone an express to you, which I have had in readiness since yesterday. If this meets you, I need not dwell upon my wish. I will only put an injunction on your riding so fast, or in the heat, or dew. Remember your presence is to support, to console your Theo., perhaps to rejoice with her at the restoration of our much-loved child. Let us encourage this hope; encourage it, at least, till you see me, which I flatter myself will be before this can reach you. Some kind spirit will whisper to my Aaron how much his tender attention is wanted to support his Theo.: how much his love is necessary to give her that fortitude, that resolution, which nature has denied her but through his medium. Adieu.
THEODOSIA
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, March 22d, 1784.
My Aaron had scarce quitted the door when I regretted my passiveness. Why did I consent to his departure? Can interest repay the sacrifice? can aught on earth compensate for his presence? Why did I hesitate to decide? Ten thousand fears await me. What thought suggested my assent? The anxiety he might suffer were he to meet with obstacles to raising the sum required; should his views be frustrated for want of the precaution this journey might secure; his mortification; mine, at not having the power to relieve him, were arguments that silenced my longing wish to hold him near me; near me for ever. My Aaron, dark is the hour that separates my soul from itself.
Thus pensive, surrounded with gloom, thy Theo. sat, bewailing thy departure. Every breath of wind whistled terror; every noise at the door was mingled with hope of thy return, and fear of thy perseverance, when Brown arrived with the word—embarked—the wind high, the water rough. Heaven protect my Aaron; preserve him, restore him to his adoring mistress. A tedious hour elapsed, when our son was the joyful messenger of thy safe landing at Paulus Hook.
Stiff with cold, how must his papa have fared? Yet, grateful for his safety, I blessed my God. I envied the ground which bore my pilgrim. I pursued each footstep. Love engrossed his mind; his last adieu to Bartow was the most persuasive token—"Wait till I reach the opposite shore, that you may bear the glad tidings to your trembling mother." O, Aaron, how I thank thee! Love in all its delirium hovers about me; like opium, it lulls me to soft repose! Sweet serenity speaks, 'tis my Aaron's spirit presides. Surrounding objects check my visionary charm. I fly to my room and give the day to thee.
THEODOSIA.
TO MRS. BURR.
Albany, October 29th, 1784.
Mr. Watts this instant acquaints me that he is just setting off for New-York. I run from court to waft you a memorandum of affection. I have been remarkably well; was fortunate in my journey. The trial of Livingston and Hoffman is now arguing. It began on Thursday of last week, and will not conclude till to-night. No other business has been or will be done this term. All this cursed long absence for nothing.
I cannot leave this till Sunday or Monday. Then to Westchester Court. The return to joy and Theo. cannot be till Thursday or Friday, and that depending on my business in Westchester. Miss Yates is on her passage to New-York to spend eight or ten days.
I read your memorandum ten times a day, and observed it as religiously as ever monk did his devotion. Yesterday I burnt it. To me it seemed like sacrilege.
I fear I did not caution you enough against sleeping in the new house. For Heaven's sake (or rather for my sake), don't think of it till I come and judge. I left you an immensity of trouble, which I fear has not promoted your health. Kiss our dear little flock for me. Adieu.
A. BURR.
Late in the autumn of 1783 Colonel Burr removed from Albany into the city of New-York. In the spring of 1784 he was elected a member of the state legislature. At that early period political parties had not assumed either form or shape. The simple and intelligible terms of whip and tory were universally used. Colonel Burr's mind was occupied with his professional business. The legislature met in the city of New-York. He attended two sessions as a member. The first commenced on the 12th of October, 1784. He was in the house only a small portion of the time, and never interfered in what might be considered the ordinary business of the day. On great questions he took an active and decided part. His character for sagacity, discrimination, and firmness, was well established; and he would, therefore, have possessed great influence, if such had been his object; but his ambition, at this time, was not political; or, if it was, he had determined to smother it "until a more convenient season."
The second session while he was a member commenced on the 27th of January, 1785. During this he was more attentive than at the preceding session, but governed by the same system of policy, acting only when great and important questions were under consideration. On the 14th of February a joint committee of the two houses was appointed to revise the laws of the state. Colonel Burr was chairman of the committee on the part of the house. He introduced, on leave granted him, several important bills. One in relation to the public lands, another relative to the titles to real estate, &c. On the 25th of February a bill was pending for the gradual abolition of slavery within the State of New-York. It provided that all born after its passage should be born free. Burr moved to amend, and proposed to insert a provision, that slavery should be entirely abolished after a day specified. His amendment being lost, he voted for the bill as reported. He was a member of the legislature, and supported the law in 1799, by which, ultimately, slavery within the state was abolished.
The question upon which he took the most prominent part related to an application of some tradesmen and mechanics in the city of New-York for an act of incorporation. The advocates of this bill had united their interest with certain land speculators, and by these means it was supposed both bills might be carried through the legislature. Both, however, failed. Colonel Burr was the only member from the city of New-York that opposed what was termed the Mechanics' Bill. His opposition produced so much feeling and excitement, that a man of less firmness would have been driven from his course. Riots were threatened, and by many it was supposed his house would be assaulted. His friends volunteered their services to protect him, but he declined receiving their aid, averring that he had no fears of any violation of the laws by men who had made such sacrifices as the whigs had made for the right of self-government, and that he could and would protect himself, if, contrary to his expectations, it should become necessary. That he was prepared to resist any attack was universally known, but none was attempted, and perhaps for that reason.
The Mechanics' Bill passed the legislature late in February, and was sent to the Council of Revision. At that time the chancellor and the judges of the Supreme Court formed a Council of Revision, and had a qualified negative on all bills. If they considered a bill unconstitutional, they returned it to the house in which it originated, with their objections; after which, if it received the vote of two thirds of both houses, it became a law. This bill was returned on the 9th of March by the council, with their objections, and, two thirds not voting in favour, it was lost. These objections, in substance, were precisely what had been urged against it by Colonel Burr on the floor of the assembly. The petitioners were forty-three in number. The bill gave them unlimited powers in some particulars. It did not incorporate their successors, only so far as they pleased to admit them. They might hold landed estate in perpetuity to an unlimited amount, provided their income did exceed fifteen hundred pounds beyond their outgoings. Their by-laws were to be approved by the city corporation; thus, by rendering the one dependant on the other, either the mechanics would influence the magistrates, and the powers of the corporation of the city and county of New-York be made, at some future day, instruments of monopoly and oppression; or, which was more probable, the corporation of the city and county of New-York obtain a controlling power over the mechanics, and thus add to the extensive influence which that corporation already enjoyed, thereby rendering it dangerous to the political freedom of the people. Such were some of the objections entertained and urged by Colonel Burr against this bill. The great body of the community were prepared to sustain him; and, before the succeeding session of the legislature, the intelligent among the mechanics were so well satisfied with the correctness of his views, that a similar application was never afterward made,
From the year 1785 until the year 1788, Colonel Burr was unknown as a politician. His practice was extensive and lucrative. His domestic relations seemed to occupy all his leisure time. His family was large, and to direct the education of his children was to him the most delightful employment. His zeal for their improvement is evinced in some of the preceding letters. His own health was precarious, while that of Mrs. Burr caused him constant alarm and apprehension. He had but one child, a daughter; but the children of his wife by her first husband (Colonel Prevost) he reared as his own, and with all the tenderness of an affectionate father. The subjoined letters present Mrs. Burr in a most estimable point of view, while they cast some light upon Colonel Burr's character as a parent and a husband. They cannot be read, it is believed, by even the giddy and the thoughtless without feeling an interest in the destiny of their writers.
In the office of Colonel Burr, as students, were his two stepsons, Frederick and John Bartow. When absent from home on professional or other business, one of them frequently accompanied him as an amanuensis. On these occasions all his instructions in relation to lawsuits in which he was employed as counsel, or papers connected therewith, were communicated to the attorney or clerk in the office through Mrs. Burr. She appeared to be held responsible for the punctual and prompt performance of any duty required of them. To him she was indeed a helpmate; for she not only had charge of his domestic concerns, but was counselled with, and intimately associated in, all his business transactions.
TO MRS. BURR.
Princeton, April, 1785.
I had just embarked in the stage at Paulus Hook when I learned that it went no further than Newark; so that, after being three hours close packed with rabble, I trudged an hour more to find a conveyance to Elizabethtown, where I arrived at eight o'clock, chilled, fatigued, and with a surly headache. A comfortable bed and tea made amends.
We arrived here at six o'clock this evening. I am fortunate in company, and find the travelling much less fatiguing than I imagined. Remind Frederick of the business with Platt. Write me by the nest post, and by every stage. If I should even have left Philadelphia, I shall meet the letters. Speak of Harriet, and sur tout des trois Theo's. Adieu.
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR.
Philadelphia, April, Saturday, 1785.
I did not write you on Friday, as promised in my letter from Princeton, for which I will apologize when we meet. I arrived here in good plight on Friday evening. Augustine came down about noon on Saturday. We have made some satisfactory progress in our business. Seeing the great men of other countries puts me in more conceit of those of my own.
I shall be released on Tuesday evening, which will permit me to see thee on Thursday morning. Mr. Colt will inform you about every thing. Unfortunately, a gentleman with whom part of our business is has left town. If he should return to-morrow morning, I shall be the happiest of swains on Wednesday morning. I am very minute in these calculations, because I make them very often. Does Theodosia employ herself ever in the same way?
I have been to twenty places to find something to please you, but can see nothing that answers my wishes; you will therefore, I fear, only receive
Your affectionate
A. BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, April, Saturday, 1785.
I persuade myself this is the last day you spend in Philadelphia. That to-morrow's stage will bring you to Elizabethtown; that Tuesday morning you will breakfast with those who pass the tedious hours regretting your absence, and counting time till you return. Even little Theo. gives up her place on mamma's lap to tell dear papa—"come home." Tell Augustine he does not know how much he owes me. 'Tis a sacrifice I would not make to any human being but himself, nor even to him again. It is the last time of my life I submit to your absence, except from necessity to the calls of your profession. All is well at home. Ireson gone on his intended journey. Morris very little here. The boys very attentive and industrious; much more so for being alone. Not a loud word spoken by the servants. All, in silent expectation, await the return of their much-loved lord; but all faintly when compared to thy
THEO.
Since writing to you last evening, every thing has conspired to harass and delay me. I was really in hopes of surprising you on Wednesday morning; but am now most unfortunately and cruelly detained here till to-morrow evening; shall therefore, with the usual luck of stages, embrace you on Thursday morning.
I have been walking, in the course of this day, hunting offices, records, &c., &c., above eight hours, and am not fatigued. I must really be very robust. Thine,
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR.
Albany, April, 1785.
I arrived here on Tuesday evening very late, though little fatigued. Wednesday afternoon I went with Sill to Bethlehem (Nichols), drank tea, supped, and breakfasted. I am pleased with our friend's choice, of which more next Tuesday evening. I am vexed you were not of my party here—that we did not charter a sloop. I have planned a circuit with you to Long Island, with a number of pleasant &c.s, which are also reserved to a happier moment.
I shall succeed in all Mrs. Clarke's business except that of the lands, in which I hope little.
I feel impatient, and almost angry, that I have received no letter from you, though I really do not know of any opportunity by which you could have written; but it seems an endless while to wait till Saturday night before I can hear from you. How convenient would a little of the phlegm of this region be upon such occasions as these! I fear very much for our dear petite. I tell every one who asks me that both she and you are well, because I abhor the cold, uninterested inquiries, which I know would be made if I should answer otherwise. Do you want the pity of such? Those you thought your very good friends here have forgotten you.
Mademoiselle Y. is very civil. Are the Wadsworths with you? Have you not been tormented with some embarrassments which I wickedly left you to struggle with? I hope you don't believe the epithet. But why these questions, to which I can receive no answer but in person? I nevertheless fondly persuade myself that I shall receive answers to them all, and many more about yourself, which I have in mind, notwithstanding you will not have seen this. There is such a sympathy in our ideas and feelings, that you can't but know what will most interest me.
Give Johnstone the enclosed memorandum; or, if he has gone home, to Bartow; the business is of importance, and admits of no delay.
Affectionately adieu,
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR.
Chester, Friday, May, 1785.
I arrived here about eleven o'clock this forenoon, with little fatigue, my horse being an excellent one. Appearances are hostile; they talk of twenty or twenty-five days at least. I believe I shall not hold out so long. The commissioners are met, but not all the parties, so that the business is not yet begun. The gentlemen from Albany are not yet arrived or heard of. We shall probably do nothing till they come. I have comfortable clean quarters.
Tell one of the boys to send me some supreme court seals; about six. I forgot them. Write me what calls are made at the office for me. Distribute my love. Let each of the children write me what they do. You may certainly find some opportunity. Adieu.
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR.
Chester, May, 1785.
I strayed this morning for an hour or two in the woods, where I lay on a rock to enjoy the wild retreat. The cheerfullness of all around me led me to ask why all animated nature enjoyed its being but man? Why man alone is discontented, anxious—sacrificing the present to idle expectations;—expectations which, if answered, are in like manner sacrificed. Never enjoying, always hoping? Answer, tu mihi magna Apollo. I would moralize, but time—and my companions are coming in. Let me hear of your health. Avoid all fatigue. Judge Yates proposes to come down with me. Quoi faire?
My good landlady is out of tea, and begs me to send for a pound. Put it up very well. I am in better health than spirits. Adieu.
A. BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, May, 1785.
I am vexed that I did not inquire your route more particularly. I cannot trace you in imagination, nor find your spirit when at rest; nor dare I count the hours to your return. They are still too numerous, and add to my impatience. I expect my reward in the health you acquire. If it should prove otherwise, how I shall hate my acquiescence to your departure. I anticipate good or evil as my spirits rise or fall; but I know no medium; my mind cannot reach that stage of indifference. I fancy all my actions directed by you; this tends to spur my industry, and give calm to my leisure.
The family as you left it. Bartow never quits the office, and is perfectly obliging. Your dear little daughter seeks you twenty times a day; calls you to your meals, and will not suffer your chair to be filled by any of the family.
Judge Hobart called here yesterday; says you are absent for a month. I do not admit that among possibilities, and therefore am not alarmed. I feel obliged to Mr. Wickham for his delay, though I dare not give scope to my pen; my heart dictates too freely. O, my Aaron! how many tender, grateful things rush to my mind in this moment; how much fortitude do I summon to suppress them! You will do justice to their silence; to the inexpressible affection of your plus tendre amie.
Bartow has been to the surveyor-general; he cannot inform him the boundaries of those lots for J. W. There is no map of them but one in Albany.
THEODOSIA.
TO MRS. BURR.
Chester, May, 1785.
I joined the commissioners and parties in the woods, near this place, on Wednesday noon; found the weather severe, and roads bad. Have, since my arrival, been following the commissioners in their surveys. Nothing transpires from which we can conjecture their intentions.
This morning came your kind, your affectionate, your truly welcome letter of Monday evening. Where did it loiter so long? Nothing in my absence is so flattering to me as your health and cheerfullness. I then contemplate nothing so eagerly as my return; amuse myself with ideas of my own happiness, and dwell on the sweet domestic joys which I fancy prepared for me.
Nothing is so unfriendly to every species of enjoyment as melancholy. Gloom, however dressed, however caused, is incompatible with friendship. They cannot have place in the mind at the same time. It is the secret, the malignant foe of sentiment and love. Adieu.
A. BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, May, 1785.
Your dear letter was handed me this day, at a moment which, if possible, increased its value. I have a little fever hanging about me, which tends to depress my spirits for the time. Your moralizing changed my dulness to a pleasing melancholy. I am mortified at the interruption it met, and impatient to renew the theme; to renew it in a more pleasing manner than even your letters afford. When my health is ill, I find your absence insupportable; every evil haunts me. It is the last that must take place till term; that I must submit to. I am pleased with your account of your health and spirits; they are both as I wish.
When you write again, speak of your return. The uncertainty makes it more irksome. The company you speak of will be as welcome as any at this juncture; but my health and mind seem to require the calm recreation of friendly sympathy; the heart that has long been united to mine by the tenderest esteem and confidence, who has made every little anxiety its own, to whom I can speak without reserve every imaginary wo, and whose kind consolation shall appease those miseries nature has imposed. But whatever present inconveniences may arise, I submit to them with perfect resignation, rather than, even in idea, to expect the one mentioned by you when last at home. My mind is impressed with a perfect dread of all of that kind. We never can have one to give us so little trouble as E. W., and yet we found it great. We must avoid all such invitations, for the sacrifice on my part is too great.
Friday morning.
I have passed a most tedious night. I went to bed much indisposed. M. absent; mamma also. Ten thousand anxieties surrounded me till three, when I fell asleep; waked at six, much refreshed, and in better health than I could possibly have expected. I flatter myself your task will end sooner than you expected. Mr. Marvin calls for my letter this morning, which will be delivered with a pound of green tea I have purchased for your landlady at two dollars. He has called. I am hurried. Ten thousand loves
Toujours la vÔtre.
THEODOSIA.
TO MRS. BURR.
Jane's in the Mountains, May, 1785.
I wrote my dear Theodosia a long letter of business and nonsense last evening from Chester. I am now about twelve miles nearer to you, and shall sleep to-night within thirty-five miles (only six hours' ride), and shall to-morrow return surlily to Chester.
Our cavalcade is most fortunately composed. Some who abhor fatigue, others who admire good fare, by which by which combination we ride slow and live well. We have halted here half an hour to lounge and take a luncheon. Of the last, I partook reasonably. The time which others devote to the former, I devote (of right) to you, and thus lounge with peculiar glee.
By return of Mr. Smith (who is obliging enough to deliver this), I expect much longer letters from our lazy flock. By the next opportunity I determine not to write you, but some others who deserve more attention than I fear they will think I mean to give them.
The girls must give me a history of their time, from rising to night. The boys any thing which interests them, and which, of course, will interest me. Are there any, or very pressing calls at the office? The word is given to mount. I shall have time to seal this and overtake them. Kiss for me those who love me.
A. BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, April, 1785.
Mrs. Wickham just called to tell me of an opportunity to Chester. How joyfully I embrace it. I had a most insupportable impatience to communicate to you my gratitude and thanks for your last visit. It was a cordial to my health and spirits; a balm to my soul. My mind is flushed with pleasing hopes. Ten thousand tender thoughts rush to my pen; but the bearer may prove faithless. I will suppress them to a happier moment, and anticipate the dear indulgence.
The family as you left it. Thy Theodosia's health and spirits increase daily. Bartow's industry and utility are striking to the family and strangers. Johnstone returned yesterday. Your letter was as eagerly read as though I had not seen you. Write when you have leisure; if it does not reach me immediately, it will serve to divert some tedious moment in a future absence; even when you are at home, engrossed by business, I frequently find a singular pleasure in perusing those testimonies of affection.
I find I am continually speaking of myself. I can only account for it from my Aaron having persuaded me 'tis his favourite subject, and the extreme desire I have to please him induces me to pursue it. I take no walks but up one stairs and down the other. The situation of my house will not admit of my seeing many visitors. I hope some arrangement will be accomplished by the next week.
A packet from Sill. He writes like a happy man—not the happy man of a day, or I am much deceived in him. She is certainly to be ranked among the fortunate. I wish she may be sensible of her lot.
I have fixed the time of seeing you. Till Saturday I will hope the best. I cannot extend my calculations beyond it; four days of your absence is an age to come. My compliments to your chum, and who else you please. Pense avec tendresse de la vÔtre.
THEODOSIA.
TO MRS. BURR.
Chester, May 12, 1785.
Nothing could be more welcome than your affectionate letters by Mr. Wickham. They met me on Tuesday evening, on our return from a tour through the mountains. I was for some hours transported home, to partake of that domestic tranquillity which you so feelingly paint. Continue to write if opportunity presents. They will cheer me in these rustic regions. If not, they will not be lost.
This being a rainy day, we have kept within doors. Tomorrow, if fair, we resume the business of climbing mountains, which will probably be our employment till about the middle of next week. After which a week more (at most) will finish the controversy.
Pay Moore nothing till I return, unless you see cause. Let him rough-cast, if he is confident of succeeding; but tell him I will not pay him till I am convinced it will bear weather, and last.
If the sheriff of Bergen (Dey) calls for his money, I enclose a note with a blank for the name. You must speak to either Malcom or Lente for their assistance, unless you can think of something more convenient, putting the matter in such light as your address shall think proper. If for any reasons you should prefer to make use of Popham's name, do it. The person whose name is put in the note must endorse it, and the note be dated. Let one of the boys go over to Mrs. Baldwin for the certificate of the balance of the account, which, if obtained, a deduction must be made accordingly. Perhaps, by paying three or four hundred pounds, Mr. Morris will consent to wait my return. Perhaps, at your instance, he will wait that time without any payment. All which is humbly submitted. I enclose two notes, that you may take your choice.
Mr. Watrous's business respecting the land is not very material. If it should have failed, you may inform him that I have long since filed a caveat which will cover his claim.
I bear the fatigues of our business to admiration. Have great appetite, and sleep sound about ten hours a night. I am already as black as a Shawanese. You will scarce know me if I continue this business a few days longer. Thank our dear children for their kind letters. But they are so afraid of tiring either me or themselves (I suspect the latter), that they tell me few, very few, of those interesting trifles which I want to know.
Let T. give them any new steps he pleases, but not one before the others. If any one is behind or less apt, more pains must be taken to keep them on a par. This I give in charge to you.
I fear you flatter me with respect to your health. You seem a little studied on that score, which is not very natural to you when speaking truth. But, if it is not true, it is surely your own fault. Go to bed early, and do not fatigue your self with running about house. And upon no account any long walks, of which you are so fond, and for which you are so unfit. Simple diet will suit you best. Restrain all gout for intemperance till some future time not very distant.
I do not nor can promise myself all you promise me with respect to the children. I have been too much mortified on that subject to remove it at once.
This is the last expedition of the kind I shall ever undertake; and ever since I have been here I have been planning ways to extricate myself from it, but am defeated, and shall be absolutely detained prisoner till the business is concluded. Johnstone can give you an account of my quarters and mode of life. You haunt me daily more and more. I really fear I shall do little justice to the business which brought me here.
The children must pardon my not writing. I have a number of memorandums of business to make out for Johnstone. Thank them again for their letters, and beg them not to be so churlish.
Let one of the boys haunt Moore. But you surely can do it without letting him vex you, even supposing he does nothing. I had much rather that should be the case than that you should be one minute out of humour with him.
The girls must go on with Tetard in his own way till I come, when I will set all right.
It is already late. I must be up at sunrise. Bon soir, ma chÈre amie.
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR
Chester, 19th May, 2 o'clock P. M., 1785.
We have this day begun the examination of witnesses, which, together with the arguments, will keep us the greater part, and probably the whole, of next week. I find myself gaining strength exceedingly since my return from New-York, though perfectly out of humour with the business, the distance, and the delay.
My trip to New-York has quite ruined me for business. I cannot confine my mind to it. I am literally homesick, and think of nothing else. A witness attending in court informs me of his going to New-York as soon as his testimony is finished. I desert a moment to tell you that I am wholly yours.
6 o'clock P. M., 19th May.
Since I wrote you at two o'clock our court is adjourned till nine to-morrow. We go on briskly and in great good nature. If you were half as punctual or as fortunate (which shall I call it?), I should absolutely fancy myself talking with you. It would be some indemnification for the distance and vexation. Make up in thinking of me, and taking care of yourself, what you omit in writing. Thine at all moments.
9 o'clock at night, 19th May.
A thousand thanks for your dear affectionate letter of Tuesday evening. I was just sitting pensively and half complaining of your remissness, when your letter is received and dispels every gloomy thought. I write this from the impulse of my feelings, and in obedience to your injunctions, having no opportunity in view.
The letters of our dear children are a feast. Every part of them is pleasing and interesting. Le Jenne is not expected to be in New-York for some weeks at least. I avoid the subject. I shudder at the idea of suffering any thing to mar the happiness I promise myself.
There is no possibility of my return till the middle of next week. In one of my letters I put it to the last of next week, but we have this day made unexpected progress. If we are equally fortunate and equally good-natured, we may finish Wednesday night; but this is conjecture, and perhaps my impatience makes me too sanguine.
I broke off at the bottom of the other page to pay some attention to those who deserve much from me (our dear children). To hear that they are employed, that no time is absolutely wasted, is the most flattering of any thing that can be told me of them. It ensures their affection, or is the best evidence of it. It ensures, in its consequences, every thing I am ambitions of in them. Endeavour to preserve regularity of hours; it conduces exceedingly to industry.
I have just heard of a Mr. Brown who goes down by water. As I may not have another opportunity, I hazard it by him. He promises to leave it at old Mr. Rutherford's. Our business goes on very moderately this morning. Witnesses all tardy. We have adjourned for want of something to do. Melancholy and vexatious. It has given me a headache. We shall be holden, I fear, all next week. Adieu.
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR.
Chester, 8 o'clock, 20th May, 1785.
Worse and worse. During the whole day we have not been five hours at business. Our witnesses are so aged, and many so remote, that they will not be in till Monday, so that, at this rate, we shall eke out the whole of next week. I have at no time been so completely out of patience; just now particularly, being a little churlish with my headache, which, though not very severe, unfits me for any thing but writing to you.
I wrote you and the whole flock last evening, and added a line to you this morning, and sent off the packet by a Mr. Brown, who goes by water, and promised to deliver it him-self. He has business at old Mr. Rutherford's. If he is punctual, don't forget him in thinking of the letters. Do say something that will make me a little more content with this vexatious delay and imprisonment. I am prompted to write a hundred things which I dare not, for fear I shall not find a safe conveyance: that was particularly the case last evening and this morning. It is perhaps fortunate, or I should spend too much time with you in this way. I believe I do as it is. Adieu, a little while. I am just going to prepare some hot punch.
Ten o'clock.
I have been till this minute making and sipping punch, and with great success. It has thrown me into a perspiration, which obliges me to go to bed. I am very illy reconciled to leave you and bid you good-night, but so says my hard lot.
Saturday morning, 8 o'clock.
I lay awake till after three o'clock this morning; then got up and took a large dose of medicine. It was composed posed of laudanum, nitre, and other savoury drugs, which procured me sleep till now: have no headache; must eat breakfast, and away to court as fast as possible.
Saturday Evening.
Every thing almost stands still. I begin to despair of getting away. I am sure the whole of next week will not finish our business at the present rate. To make it more tedious and disagreeable, some of us are less good-humoured than at first. Not a line from you since that I have mentioned. I can find no opportunity for this. I am too vexed to utter one sentiment.
Sunday, 22d May.
No opportunity for this scrawl yet. I begin to be tired of seeing it, and wish it gone for this reason; and also, because I try to persuade myself you would be glad to receive it.
To-day we have fine scope to reflect how much better we might have employed it, had we been active in our business last week. I find the whole might have been finished by yesterday (if the witnesses on both sides had been ready) as well as a month hence.
My room is a kind of rendezvous for our side: have seldom, therefore, time either to think or write, unless at night or early in the morning. Judge Yates concludes to give us a few days of his company, and to accept of a room with us. The coming of Le Jeune uncertain; not probably till fall. You will receive a pail of butter, perhaps, with this. I have been contracting for the year.
Have you done running up and down stairs? How do you live, sleep, and amuse yourself? I wish, if you have leisure (or, if you have not, make it), you would read the AbbÉ Mably's little book on the Constitution of the United States. St. John has it in French, which is much better than a translation. This, you see, will save me the trouble of reading it; and I shall receive it with much more emphasis par la bouche d'amour. Adieu. I seal this instantly, lest I be tempted to write more. Again adieu.
A. BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, May 22d, 1785.
Your letter by Mr. Bayard was brought me on Saturday, and the first I had received since the one by Mr. Marvin till to-day. Mr. Brown very punctually and civilly came with your welcome packet of Thursday, nine o'clock. It was just before dinner; the children were dispersed at different employments. I furnished the mantelpiece with the contents of the packet. When dinner was served up they were called. You know the usual eagerness on this occasion. They were all seated but Bartow, when he espied the letters; the surprise, the joy, the exclamations exceed description. The greatest stoic would have forgot himself. A silent tear betrayed me no philosopher. A most joyous repast succeeded. We talked of our happiness, of our first of blessings, our best of papas. I enjoyed, my Aaron, the only happiness that could accrue from your absence. It was a momentary compensation; the only one I ever experienced. Your letters always afford me a singular satisfaction;—a sensation entirely my own; this was peculiarly so. It wrought strangely on my mind and spirits. My Aaron, it was replete with tenderness! with the most lively affection. I read and re-read, till afraid I should get it by rote, and mingle it with common ideas; profane the sacred pledge. No; it shall not be. I will economize the boon. I will limit the recreation to those moments of retirement devoted to thee. Of a sudden I found myself unusually fatigued. I reflected on the cause, and soon found I had mounted the stairs much oftener than I could possibly have done on any other occasion.
I am vexed with my last letter to you; 'tis impossible for me to disguise a single feeling or thought when I am writing or conversing with the friend of my heart. I hope you have attended only to the last paragraph, and avoided all unnecessary anxiety for her who wishes to be a constant source of pleasure to thee. I have been in good health since Saturday morning. Since yesterday, unusually gay and happy; anticipating a thousand pleasures, studying every little arrangement that can contribute to thy comfort. This wet weather is a bar to any essential progress. The walls are still too damp to admit of either paint or paper. I have a bed ready for the judge; ne vous genez pas lÂ-dessus. I am afraid some foolish reflections in my last will embarrass you. Your affection and tenderness has put them to flight. "Let nothing mar the promised bliss." Thy Theo. waits with inexpressible impatience to welcome the return of her truly beloved. Every domestic joy shall decorate his mansion. When Aaron smiles, shall Theo. frown? Forbid it every guardian power.
Le Jeune perplexes me no longer. I am provoked with myself for having repeated it to you. Your dear little Theo. grows the most engaging child you ever saw. She frequently talks of, and calls on, her dear papa. It is impossible to see her with indifference. All moves as you wish it. All count the passing hours till thy return. Remember, I am in good health and spirits; that I expect the same account of yours. To think of me affectionately is my first command; to write me so, the second. Hasten to share the happiness of thy much loved and much loving
THEODOSIA.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, August 28th, 1785.
The enclosed was to have gone yesterday, but the intended bearer disappointed me. Young —— and his companions have just left us; at tasting your Madeira he pronounced you a d——d clever fellow. Your merit increased with the number of glasses; they went away in good-humour with themselves and the hostess. O my love, how earnestly I pray that our children may never be driven from your paternal direction. Had you been at home to-day, you would have felt as fervent in this prayer as your Theo. Our children were impressed with utter contempt for their guest. This gave me real satisfaction.
I really believe, my dear, few parents can boast of children whose minds are so prone to virtue. I see the reward of our assiduity with inexpressible delight, with a gratitude few experience. My Aaron, they have grateful hearts; some circumstances prove it, which I shall relate to you with singular pleasure at your return. I pity A. C. from my heart. She will feel the folly of an over zeal to accumulate. Bartow's assiduity and faithfullness is beyond description. My health is not worse. I have been disappointed in a horse; shall have Pharaoh to-morrow. Frederick is particularly attentive to my health; indeed, none of them are deficient in tenderness. All truly anxious for papa's return; we fix Tuesday, beyond a doubt, but hope impossibilities.
I had a thousand things to write, but the idea of seeing you banishes every other thought. I fear much the violent exertions you are obliged to make will injure your health. Remember how dear, how important it is to the repose, to the life of
THEODOSIA.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, August 29th, 1785.
As soon as Tuesday evening came, I sent repeated messages to Cape's, who persevered in the answer of there being no letter. I slept ill; found my health much worse in the morning; rode out; in spite of exercise, continued ill till your dear letter was handed me. I immediately called for refreshment, and imagined I had recovered my health; my sensations still tell me so. Ten thousand thanks for the best prescription that ever physician invented. I ride daily; breakfasted with Clem. Clarke this morning, who has scarce a trait of himself. He neither knows nor cares for anybody but his son, who is three years and a half old, fair hair, but not handsome; much humoured; is introduced as a pet of the first value. Aunt more in temper than was expected. He dines here to-morrow with the two Blakes. I felt no other compulse to notice them than your wish.
Our little daughter's health has improved beyond my expectations. Your dear Theodosia cannot hear you spoken of without an apparent melancholy; insomuch that her nurse is obliged to exert her invention to divert her, and myself avoid to mention you in her presence. She was one whole day indifferent to every thing but your name. Her attachment is not of a common nature; though this was my opinion, I avoided the remark, when Mr. Grant observed it to me as a singular instance.
You see I have followed your example in speaking first of myself. I esteemed it a real trait of your affection, a sympathy in the feelings, the anxiety of your Theo., who had every fear for your health; more than you would allow her to express.
The garden wall is begun. I fear the front pavement will not answer your intention. I write you again tomorrow. Much love awaits thee. Thine, unchangeably,
THEODOSIA BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, 25th September, 1785.
Your dear letter of Saturday morning has just reached me. I was relieved, delighted, till the recollection of the storm you have since weathered took place. How have you borne it? Ten thousand fears alarm me. I pursued thee yesterday, through wind and rain, till eve, when, fatigued, exhausted, shivering, thou didst reach thy haven, surrounded with inattention, thy Theo. from thee. Thus agitated, I laid my head upon a restless pillow, turning from side to side, when thy kindred spirit found its mate. I beheld my much-loved Aaron, his tender eyes fixed kindly on me; they spake a body wearied, wishing repose, but not sick. This soothed my troubled spirit: I slept tolerably, but dare not trust too confidently. I hasten to my friend to realize the delightful vision; naught but thy voice can tranquillize my mind. Thou art the constant subject of love, hope, and fear. The girls bewail the sufferings of their dear papa; the boys wish themselves in his place; Frederick frets at the badness of the horse; wishes money could put him in thy stead. The unaffected warmth of his heart delights me. If aught can alleviate thy absence, 'tis these testimonies of gratitude and affection from the young and guileless to the best of parents. They feel the hand that blesses them, and love because they are blessed. Thy orders shall be attended to. Mamma joins in the warmest assurances of sincere affection. Theodosia and Sally in perfect health. Beyond expression,
Yours,
THEODOSIA BURR.
FROM MRS. BURR.
New-York, 27th September, 1785.
I have counted the hours till evening; since that, the minutes, and am still on the watch; the stage not arrived: it is a cruel delay. Your health, your tender frame, how are they supported! Anxiety obliterates every other idea; every noise stops my pen; my heart flutters with hope and fear; the pavement from this to Cape's [4] is kept warm by the family; every eye and ear engrossed by expectation; my mind is in too much trepidation to write. I resume my pen after another messenger, in vain. I will try to tell you that those you love are well; that the boys are very diligent; Ireson gone to Westchester. My new medicine will, I flatter myself, prove a lucky one. Sally amazingly increased. Fream at work at the roof. He thinks it too flat to be secured. The back walls of the house struck through with the late rain. M.Y. still at Miss W. You must not expect to find dancing on Thursday night. I should think it a degree of presumption to make the necessary preparations without knowing the state of your health. Should this account prove favourable, I still think it best to delay it, as the stage is very irregular in its return. That of Saturday did not arrive till Sunday morning; it brought an unfavourable account of the roads. Thus you probably would not partake, nor would I wish spectators to check my vigilance, or divide that attention which is ever insufficient when thou art the object. O, my Aaron, how impatient I am to welcome thy return; to anticipate thy will, and receive thy loved commands. The clock strikes eleven. No stage. My letter must go. I have been three hours writing, or attempting to write, this imperfect scrawl. The children desire me to speak their affection. Mamma will not be forgot; she especially shares my anxiousness. Adieu.
THEODOSIA BURR
TO MRS. BURR.
Albany, October 30th, 1785. I have received your two affectionate letters. The enclosed was intended to have been sent by the stage which I met on my way up; but, by untoward accidents (needless to detail), yet lies by me. My disorder has left me almost since I left the city.
The person with whom I had business had gone from this place before my arrival, so that I should have been, ere this, on my return, but that I have suffered myself to be engaged in two land causes (Van Hoesen and Van Rensselaer), which begin to-morrow, and will probably last the whole week. I am retained for Van Hoesen, together with J. Bay and P. W. Yates. Such able coadjutors will relieve me of the principal burden. You may judge with what reluctance I engaged in a business which will detain me so long from all that is dear and lovely. I dare not think on the period I have yet to be absent. I feel it in some sort a judgment for the letters written by the girls to N.W.
Your account of your health is very suspicious; you are not particular enough; you say nothing of the means you use to restore yourself; whether you take exercise, or how you employ your time.
I shall probably leave this on Sunday next; my horse will not take me home in three days. I fear I shall not see you till Wednesday morning of next week; perhaps not even then, for I am engaged to attend the court at Bedford on Tuesday of next week. You shall hear again by the stage.
Will not these continued rains deprive us of the pleasure of the promised visit of the W.'s? How is it possible you can write me such short letters, having so much leisure, and surrounded with all that can interest me? Adieu.
A. BURR.
TO MRS. BURR.
Albany, 2d November, 1785.
I have lived these three days upon the letters I expected this evening, and behold the stage without a line! I have been through the rain, and dark, and mud, hunting up every passenger to catechise them for letters, and can scarce yet believe that I am so totally forgotten.
Our trial, of which I wrote you on Sunday, goes on moderately. It will certainly last till twelve o'clock on Saturday night; longer it cannot, that being the last hour of court. Of course, I leave this on Sunday; shall be detained at Westchester till about Thursday noon, and be home on Friday. This is my present prospect; a gloomy one, I confess; rendered more so by your unpardonable silence. I have a thousand questions to ask, but why ask of the dumb?
I am quite recovered. The trial in which I am engaged is a fatiguing one, and in some respects vexatious. But it puts me in better humour to reflect that you have just received my letter of Sunday, and are saying or thinking some good-natured things of me. Determining to write any thing that can amuse and interest me; every thing that can atone for the late silence, or compensate for the hard fate that divides us.
Since being here I have resolved that you in future accompany me on such excursions, and I am provoked to have yielded to your idle fears on this occasion. I have told here frequently, within a day or two, that I was never so long from home before, till, upon counting days, I find I have been frequently longer. I am so constantly anticipating the duration of this absence, that when I speak of it I realize the whole of it.
Let me find that you have done justice to yourself and me. I shall forgive none the smallest omission on this head. Do not write by the Monday stage, or rather, do not send the letter you write, as it is possible I shall leave the stage-road in my way to Bedford.
Affectionately adieu,
A. BURR.
Footnotes:
1. Major Popham, fifty-four years after the date of this letter, attended as a pall-bearer the funeral of Colonel Burr, the friend of his youth.
2. Mrs. Prevost's son.
3. The unfortunate Mrs. Alston, of whom much will be said hereafter.
