Philadelphia, June 7, 1803.

As you were informed yesterday, my _Celeste_ has gone with the family
(le pere excepted) to pass a fortnight six miles from town. I go
to-morrow morning to recommend myself; and that no time may be wasted,
and these six mile rides may not be too often repeated to no purpose,
I shall not go much round about the subject, but come pretty directly
to the point; of all which you will be duly informed.

Truly, if my head be as confused as my narrative, it will be of little
use to me in the negotiation. I should have begun by relating what
happened this morning. There are, however, two ways of telling a
story. One by beginning with the oldest event, and so travelling down
to the close of the tale, and this is the mode commonly used by
philosophers and historians. The other, is by commencing with the most
recent fact or earliest incident, which is the mode universally
practised by lovers, and, generally, by poets. I could even quote
Homer and Virgil as authorities in support of this latter method.
Further I may add, that this retro-progressive arrangement seems more
congenial with the temper and feelings of the fair sex. Thus, you see,
most ladies turn first to the last chapter of a novel or romance. In
defence of this practice I could dilate to the utmost extent of many
sheets; but, intending soon to publish an essay on the subject, I
leave for the present the residue to your reflections, and return to
the interview of this morning.

I was admitted without hesitation, and was presently joined by
Celeste, though I had not particularized any one as the object of my
visit. For some minutes she led the conversation, and did it with