This letter, notwithstanding my engagements, should be longer, if I
were not in danger, by writing on, of losing the post. So, dearest love,
farewell, and tell me in your next (which I shall expect on Tuesday) that
every pain has vanished from your head and from your heart. You may as
well delay writing to your mother till I return. I hope it will be
permitted me to do so very shortly. Again, my only friend, farewell.

HENRY COLDEN.




Letter IX


_To Henry Colden_

Philadelphia, Monday, October 11.

I am ashamed of myself, Henry. What an inconsistent creature am I! I
have just placed this dear letter of yours next my heart. The sensation it
affords, at this moment, is delicious; almost as much so as I once
experienced from a certain somebody's hand placed on the same spot. But
that somebody's hand was never (if I recollect aright) so highly honoured
as this paper. Have I not told you that your letter is deposited
_next_ my heart?

And with all these proofs of the pleasure your letter affords me, could
you guess at the cause of those tears which, even now, have not ceased
flowing? Your letter has so little tenderness--is so _very_ cold. But