New York February 6th -- 1799
Without making apologies, which I dislike, more especially
when good ones do not present themselves; or promises of amendment
which unforeseen casualties may disable one from performing; I will,
after having failed in many attempts, once more endeavour to answer
your last epistle. Epistle. No, it was not worthy the name; it might
have all been comprised in one page. And yet, when I consider what
that little [was?], notwithstanding your parsimony, I must thank you.
It was indeed a sweet letter Margaret, truly characteristic; twenty pages
could not have given a more vivid resemblance; it agreed exactly with
the opinion I had formed of this lovely woman, and I have reason to believe
it just, as you, at the same time, so faithfully portrayed yourself.
I perused it with mingled pleasure and pain, but though I felt both
to a great degree, yet I cannot tell which had the ascendant.
Misjudging girl! to place so much of thy felicity in the power of others,
as to suffer the coldness of indifference to fill thee with inquietude,
or to let thy heart be gladdened by the smile of approbation! such,
Margaret, is thy friend. -- I must, I will conquer this weakness,
there is a want of dignity in yielding to it. I will do so no longer.
If we would be respected by others, we must reverence ourselves.
I feel that I am not unworthy of the friendship of those I esteem if I
seek, and am not so happy as to obtain the inestimable gift, am I to
suppose I do not deserve it? Surely not, conscious rectitude ought to
deny this supposition. Affection is often wayward and capricious,
not infrequently at variance with judgment, bestowing imaginary
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