THOMAS BARTOW.



FROM MRS. BURR.

Albany, 25th March, 1783.

Some think absence tends to increase affection; the greater part that
it wears it away. I believe neither, but that it only tends to prove
how far the heart is capable of loving; or rather, whether it is real
or imaginary. When the latter, every object that amuses, blots out the
idea of the absent, we find that they are not so necessary to our
happiness as we had fancied. But when that love is real, what can
amuse, what engage the mind, to banish, for a single instant, the
object of its delight? It hates every necessity that wrests it an
instant from the contemplation of its beauties; its virtues are ever
presenting themselves to increase our regret, and suggest innumerable
fears for its safety. Such have been the occupations of this day. I
tremble at every noise: new apprehensions are ever alarming me. Every
tender sensation is awake to thee.

26th March.

My extreme anxiety operated severely upon my health. I have not had so
ill a turn in some months. The remedies of S. prove but little more
efficacious than those of G. I do without either. Various are the
conjectures respecting your errand. All think me of the party. My
spirits need, my heart grows impatient for your return. Every
countenance speaks for you, while Theodosia grieves.