[Sidenote: Richard Brent, U. S. Senator from Virginia for many years.]
You will smile, I am sure, when I tell you what I am about to do. Will you believe when I tell you I am this moment going to pack up my cloaths to go to _Chantilly_? Adieu. Some one has just come to tell me your Brother Richard is come. I must go and inquire for my Polly.
You are very well, he sais. I shall give him your letter from Nancy. The Gentlemen are all in high spirits, thinking, I suppose, of the pleasure of to-morrow. I shall be far from this [place] by that time. I must quit, as the Boys are come for me to get Sweetmeats for supper.
I must really take my pen to scribble a little before I set off. The Gentlemen are just set off to the races, and I am preparing to set off for _Chantilly_. Adieu, my Polly.
I have arrived at _Chantilly_. Nancy was much better than I expected to find her. Weakness is her only complaint. She was delighted to see me, and inquired eagerly for her dear Polly, and was much pleased with your letter.
Mrs. Pinkard is here--and a sweet Woman she is. Adieu. Nancy says I shall not write more.
I am just up, and am going to seat myself for Sibby to crape my hair.
[Sidenote: _Stratford._ Residence of Philip Ludwell Lee.]
Cousin Nancy and myself have just returned from taking an airing in the Chariot. We went to _Stratford_: walked in the Garden, sat about two hours under a butifull shade tree, and eat as many figs as we could. How did we wish for our dear Polly, and think that was the only thing we wanted to compleat our happiness!
We brought to _Chantilly_ Col. H. Lee's little Boy. He has stayed at _Stratford_ since his Papa and Mama went to New York. I assure you he is a very fine child. Dinner announced. Adieu.
Nancy is rather unwell this evening; she is a little fatigued with her ride. Adieu. I must go and talk, to raise her spirits.
To-day I have been busy making a cap. I don't think it clever, though I have spent a good while about it. Nancy and myself have been locked up stairs by ourselves all day. She is better to-day than she was yesterday.
Oh, my Marcia, how hard is our fate! that we should be deprived of your dear company, when it would compleat our Felicity--but such is the fate of Mortals! We are never permitted to be perfectly happy. I suppose it is right, else the Supreme Disposer of all things would not have permitted it: we should perhaps have been more neglectful than we are of our duty.