TO THEODOSIA.

Washington, December 6, 1803.

Since closing a letter to you last evening, I have received two more,
8th and 19th of November. You are a good girl to write so often. Oh,
yes! I knew how much of a child you were when I sent the pretty
things. Just such another child is _son pere_.

I write from my breakfast-table, having not yet been abroad, and
having denied myself to everybody. I have, therefore, nothing now to
say, and should not so soon have _troubled_ you again, but for that
part of your letter which speaks of the condition of your house. I
hasten to say that, in my opinion, your house will not be a fit or
healthy residence for your boy before the middle of April or 1st of
May. The walls may, to the touch, appear dry in three or four weeks;
but shut up any room for twelve or twenty-four hours, and enter before
it be aired, you will meet an offensive, and, as I believe, a
pernicious effluvia; an air totally unfit for respiration, unelastic,
and which, when inhaled, leaves the lungs unsatisfied. This is the air
you will breathe if you inhabit the house. I could, perhaps, show
chymically how the atmosphere of the closed rooms becomes thus azotic,
but I prefer to submit to the test of your senses.

The shawl shall be ordered on, since you will risk it. Yes, go to the
races, and appear to be amused. Be more social.

A. BURR.