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MY DEAREST FRIEND,
THIS is the coldest day we have felt this winter, and H it were not for the hope I have of a letter from you to-morrow, I should freeze, for what I know, to-night. This month has been all unpleasant weather, but none severe. You have had a north-east storm, I perceive, which raised the tides, but I hope, brought in a fresh and abundant supply of seaweed.
It is the dullest time we have seen this winter. No arrivals, no news from abroad, nor from any part of our own country. The treaty appears not, and when it will, no man can tell. Are we to wait here till May for it ? I won t. There is not the smallest reason for my waiting. I can, in no possible case, have any voice in its ratification, as two thirds of the senators must agree. Nor will any opinion or reasoning of mine have the smallest weight with any one of the senators. If I were disposed to wait, how long must I wait ? I am tired of reading and writing. My eyes complain ; I want exercise ; I must have my horse ; and I must be at home. You say I must stay a few days at New York ; but I shall be uneasy and impatient. No business, no books, no amusement, no society much suited to my taste. Good cheer is not enough for me. Balls, assemblies, hunting, are neither business, pleasure, nor diversion for me. What do you say, shall I resign my office when I am three-score, or will you come with me in a stage wagon, and lodge at a tavern in Fourth street ? I must contrive something new against next winter. The old routine grows too insipid.
I shall never be weary of my old wife, however ; so declares
Your affectionate husband,