BURR.
New-York, March 22d, 1784.
My Aaron had scarce quitted the door when I regretted my passiveness.
Why did I consent to his departure? Can interest repay the sacrifice?
can aught on earth compensate for his presence? Why did I hesitate to
decide? Ten thousand fears await me. What thought suggested my assent?
The anxiety he might suffer were he to meet with obstacles to raising
the sum required; should his views be frustrated for want of the
precaution this journey might secure; his mortification; mine, at not
having the power to relieve him, were arguments that silenced my
longing wish to hold him near me; near me for ever. My Aaron, dark is
the hour that separates my soul from itself.
Thus pensive, surrounded with gloom, thy Theo. sat, bewailing thy
departure. Every breath of wind whistled terror; every noise at the
door was mingled with hope of thy return, and fear of thy
perseverance, when Brown arrived with the word--_embarked_--the wind
high, the water rough. Heaven protect my Aaron; preserve him, restore
him to his adoring mistress. A tedious hour elapsed, when our son was
the joyful messenger of thy safe landing at Paulus Hook.
Stiff with cold, how must his papa have fared? Yet, grateful for his
safety, I blessed my God. I envied the ground which bore my pilgrim. I
pursued each footstep. Love engrossed his mind; his last adieu to
Bartow was the most persuasive token--"Wait till I reach the opposite
shore, that you may bear the glad tidings to your trembling mother.
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