From a miniature in the possession of A. Gracie King, Esq.
]
Jan. 14, 1806.
My dear Miranda:
Mr. Abbot is here from Brunswick and will take a letter for me to any
of my friends. I should not have been surprised any more to have seen
the cupola of the college itself walk into the room than I was to see
Mr. Abbot, I could hardly believe my eyes; but I could not but _know_
him, as I know nobody like him: he always seems like a frightened
bird—so hurried in his manner and conversation. How much he looked
like some of Timothy Dexter’s wooden men—at commencement last year; it
came across my mind while he was sitting by me yesterday,—’twas well I
was alone, or I should have certainly laughed. Frederic,[84] I
suppose, is at home, tho’ Mr. A. could not tell me. John[85] and
Charles King have some thought of going to Portland. I have told them
they had better go some other time, as they will find Portland so dull
and none of you in quite so good spirits. James is here and they
return with him. You ask about Jane Watts—nobody sees her, she is
entirely confined to her room. Doctor Burchea attends her now; her
cough they think a little better, but she is not able to sleep at all
without laudanum. I have no expectation she will recover, the family
seem to have.
As to news—New York is not so gay as last Winter, few balls but a
great many tea-parties. I believe I told you Mrs. Gillespie[86] has a
daughter, and still more news. You never wrote me anything about the
muslin for Arixene to work her a frock, ’tis so good an opportunity to
send it that I have a great mind to get it notwithstanding. If you
can, send the things I left to Louisa Davis in Boston. John and
Charles would bring them on to me. Walter[87] will want the shirts as
soon as the weather becomes warm. You say I have said nothing of
Walter in any of my letters; he is so hearty and well I hardly thought
of him when I wrote; he has not had a day’s sickness since I returned.
I send him out walking frequently when ’tis so cold it quite makes the
tears come; he trudges along with leading very well in the street, he
never takes cold. He goes to bed at 6 o’clock, away in the room in the
third story you used to sleep in, without fire or candle, and there he
sleeps till Phœbe goes to bed to him. You know I am a great enemy to
letting children sleep with a fire in the room; ’tis the universal
practice here, and as long as I can avoid it I never mean to practice
it; it subjects them to constant colds. They think I am very severe to
suffer such a child to be put in the third story to sleep without a
fire. I presume Aunt King and family are all well; they are going to
have a fine _waffle_ party on Tuesday. I wish you were here to go, for
the boys want to have a fine frolic. Kitty Bayard[88] is to be married
in April to Duncan Campbell; all engaged since Wolsey and Susan were
married. Mary Watts[89] is engaged to the big Doctor Romaine,—that is
quite a surprise to every one: this is rumor. And now I have written
all the trifling, I come to what is nearer my heart. You are not half
particular enough about Octavia. Does Isabella live in the same house
she did when we were there? Has Octavia nobody with her to take care
of her child? I am very glad to hear they are so cheerful. Pappa you
say has been sick but is quite recovered. How is Mamma this winter,
quite recovered her health?
Adieu. E. S. B.
Feb. 15.
And so I must hear of all the important events of the family from
anybody who casually may have it in their power to communicate them.
Horatio has a fine son, I hear, of which I am very glad; congratulate
them for me—do they mean to call him the same name as their other
little boy? I suppose you have heard from John and Charles King[90]
since they have been in Boston. If you would send the little bundle
for them to bring on I should be very glad, and I wish you to get me 3
pr. of Mr. Smith’s little white worsted socks, such as I bo’t for
Walter, only two or three sizes larger, big enough for him next
winter,—don’t neglect it, for I wish for them very much. Let them be
full large for a child 3 years old. How are all the family? Octavia, I
don’t hear from anybody; you ought to write once a fortnight
certainly. Poor Jane Watts is very low, confined to her bed,—I fear
she will never go out again. Adieu; love to all. This is my second
letter since I heard from you. I write more particularly that you may
send those things by the boys.
Yours ever, E. S. B.
To Mrs. Octavia Browne.
New York, March 30, 1806.
My Dear Mother:
I am most impatiently looking for Miranda and hoping, tho’ I dare not
place too much dependence on seeing my Father. I am better than when I
wrote you before, tho’ still subject to these faint turns. I have
become more used to them and they don’t alarm me. I ride frequently
and take the air every fine day in some way or other. I have been free
from a return of the nervous headache for a fortnight, till the night
before last I had a return of the numbness and pain, tho’ not so
severe as the last. I have a very good appetite and look very fat and
rosy, but really am very weak and languid. I don’t know why I look so
much better than I feel. Mary Murray is to be married a week from next
Wednesday; she is very desirous that Miranda should get here; I really
hope she may. Perhaps I may get courage enough to go myself if she
comes in time, otherwise I don’t believe I shall venture; however,
’twill depend upon my feelings at the time. I shall look out the last
of the week for Pappa and Miranda very seriously. I hope they are on
their way now. Uncle’s oldest son, John Alsop, arrived here about a
week since; he seems a very fine young man, rather taller than his
Father,—he will be a second Uncle William, for he does not appear to
have half got his height. Charles King has gone to Holland.