Sunday, 6th December.
This is the third day in town, and no business done. These two days
past I have been studying the second volume of Rousseau. G. is
returned. He never appeared more unlike himself. I was somehow
uncommonly stupid, and, would you believe it, even awkward. Said very
little, and that little with hesitation. You know there are days when
every thing goes against one. Paid little attention to anybody (that
little, somehow, ill timed), and received still less from them.
How could we forget Latimer? He has sung Theodosia's praise among the
southern army in terms with which her best friends must be pleased. He
has also established the character of A. Burr. Quackenbush is
determined to be civil. Says his visits will be frequent.
Yates is returned. More of him to-morrow. An old, weather-beaten lady,
Miss Depeyster, has given the whole history of Burr, and much of
Theo., but nothing unfavourable. In a place where Burr thought himself
a stranger, there is scarce any age or sex that does not, either from
in formation or acquaintance, know something of him.
I am surprised I forgot to advise you to get a Franklin fireplace.
They have not the inconvenience of stoves, are warm, save wood, and
never smoke. The cost will not be, probably, more than ten or fifteen
dollars, which will be twice saved this winter in wood and _comfort_,
and they may be moved anywhere.
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