Yes, it is a long year indeed, and by a Son's Calendar two, since he has known the happiness resulting from the company and instructing conversation of his beloved Parents— He often sees them in idea, and their sentiments remain impressed on his mind; but ideal Pleasure is a poor substitute, for real, nor is the expression of the Pen equal to that of speech— The Prospect before me is pleasing, perhaps too much so—to attain it, I rather hurry, than make haste— A few months will alter my situation from Infancy to Manhood— I would wish that my studies should terminate with the first and my entrances into life for the prosecution of my profession to begin with the last— But this cannot be— I have always thought, that the future Success of a young Man depends much upon the Credit which he can establish in the first dawn of his Fortune— For this reason I have determined not to venture upon my Journey through the practice of the Law, untill I can safely walk without a guide, and see before me a probability of success— my impatience to obtain this object, as well as to return to the embraces of my parents, makes me more anxious every Day— You may depend upon it, that I will not remain in Philadelphia an instant beyond the completion of my views on this head, and I am sure that you would be fare from desiring my return before.

     I am surprised to find that my ideas concerning the Necessity or the happiness of the married state has for some time decreased with my increase of age—either it is, that my anxiety to finish my studys, spares me too little time to reflect upon it, or I am convinced that our Juvenile attachments wear off that ardor, which is seldom the characteristic of more advanced Years— I loved, or thought I loved at an early period indeed; though I am now convinced that I mistook the effusions of a young susceptible heart, for the serious effects of a fixed and durable passion— whatever it was I was lead to connect with it the idea of marriage—and had it not been for thy guardian protection, thou best of Parents! or had you been as imprudent as I was inconsiderate, my Happiness in life had been blasted long e'er this, and the mour[n]ful seal to my future tranquillity of mind had been indeliably impressed— I reflect on it with more than gratitude— I can trace through the whole of your Conduct in the management of that affair, a tenderness of regard for my pro[s]perity which nothing but your Prudence could equal— The part which you had to act in it was fixed, though difficult— A Son sollicited your consent to stamp with ruin perhaps his future Peace, & under the delusion of supposing his happiness at stake, could not otherwise than feel himself injured at a refusal— A short time dissipated the veil of an infatuated passion, and I then saw with admiration and Pleasure, the generous conflict which you had known— On the one hand, a sacrifice of my studies, an early initiation into the complicated management, of a family before I had learnt to take care of myself, were objects of sufficient magnitude to determine you upon a refusal— On the other hand were the persuasive prayers of a Son (for if I remember well I wrote as I felt) who knew no other happiness, but that which he sollicited, and who must conseq[u]ently regard the prevention of it, with the Eye of discontent— I Remember that at the time, I thought hard of my fate— Experience has made me look back with horror upon the danger I have escaped, and bless the generous Hand that saved me— There is but one circumstance through the whole, of my conduct which I take pleasure in reflecting on, and that is, that blinded by a passion whose ardor was proportioned to my years, and perhaps greatly encreased from the amiableness of it's object, I yet preserved, the most invioble constancy of Duty, and never even in Idea swerved from the most rigid observance of it— Although I am fare from taking any credit for what I was bound by every tie to do, I am never the less pleased to think that I acted as I should, when reason (rather feeling), and Duty were at War— I determined in the very instant (when, on any other occasion, passion would have urged me to act unworthily) to quit a pursuit which your displeasure and consequently my unhappiness would be the result of— I well knew that your objections were to marriage, and not to the object of my affections— these you say are now removed, and that your Consent shall sanctify my choice if properly placed— Was I disposed to form a Connection of this kind, our perfect agreement in sentiments on that subject, would leave me no fears, of making it agreable to you— I was once Romantick enough to conceive, that Love and Riches were incompatible, and that elegance, nay affluency were the surest enemies to conjugal bliss— I looked at a thatched Roof as the abode of domestic happiness, where the necessity of tilling the ground, or minding Stocks, added new energy to the connubial tie— These were the ideas of youth which had never been taught to feel the cold hand of poverty, or to discover from Experience that one sett of Men are from the consequences of Society destined to move in a superior sphere from others, and that any degradation from that State, is insufferable— I still think that when Love and Fortune is opposed, to reflect a moment which to pursue, is as unmanly as it is unnatural— But how true is your observation, that Riches do not always seek the unworthy, and that it is fare from being a difficult task to see them connected with merit— I should not only wish to live without want, but also, never to be oblidged to move in a sphere, inferior to that which I have hitherto ma[i]ntained— So true is that sentiment in Julia de Rubigne which I shall never forget, and which for it's truth and beauty I will here add—"They who have never known prosperity can hardly be said to be unhappy; it is from the remembrance of Joys we have lost, that the arrows of affliction are pointed"— I wish however that the same Reasons which now determine me against marriage, may not induce you to desire it, as much as those which I once assigned for it, determined you to oppose me— Not that I conceive you would wish me to Marry, unless it was perfectly agreable, yet I am afraid that you will have some objections to my Reasons— I have long had it in contemplation to visit Europe after the completion of my Studies— This cannot be done after marriage, or even before, if subject to engagements— I consider this Tour as absolutely requisite to enable a Gentleman to fix himself in a world, where he wishes, or expects to be a useful or conspicuous Character— It will lay up a fund of improvement and entertainment for a whole life to exhaust in the most pleasing Reflections— Nevertheless I must allow that if a young Man who means to pursue any profession <wi>th success would consult his own immediate interest, he had better settle himself as early as possible in the Country where he means to exercise it, and try by time to gain the affection of his Countrymen and to insinuate himself into their good graces by residing amongst them, and by paying them attention— forcible as this argument is, it has not been powerful enough to turn me <mutilated> purpose— Nor do I know of but one circumstance on Earth <mutilated> th<e> want of the consent of you and my Father— With you alone <mutilated> <deter>mined not to go, if you object to it, as I am to go, <mutilated> your generous regard for my good, should make <mutilated> <d>eclare what your individual happiness would oppose, I would banish without a murmur every idea of acting in a manner so as to cause you one moment of uneasiness— I value your peace of min<d> fare beyond any selfish view, nor would Riches, splendor or Honours affor<d the> smallest Ray of delight, if it deprived you of one Hour's happiness— <mutilated> is the purest Self Love, and to call it disinterested, is to confound terms— I find our insterests [sic], our attachments, and our feelings so closely connected by Nature, that to know of your uneasiness and not to be affected by it, would be as impossible as if it were really my own— Since I have been able to discern the difference between instinct and Reason, I have ever resolved to make your happiness the reward of my pursuits, and of my ambition.

     I Perused your Letter to Mrs Powell with Pride and satisfaction— Pride—because written in an Elegant and Easy stile I could not help participating a share of the Credit which it did the author; (and this I'll assure you devoid of flattery—) Satisfaction—Could I be otherwise than pleased, to see myself so affectionately, and <so> t<e>nderly named? I delivered it (you may be assured) without losin<g> <mutilated> I shall never forget the dear Woman's Reply— "I sincer<mutilated> this mark of her attention, and Politeness— Bu<t> <mutilated> effusions of a young mind, magnified littl<mutilated>, which scarce des<mutilated> have been remembered"— She Intends to answer you by the first saf<e> opportunity.

     I have at length determined to have my picture taken, even before I am able to pay for it— This Resolution was taken i<n con>sequence of many convenient opportunitys which have lately <mutilated> which might easily have conveyed the Picture to Virginia, had it <b>ee<n> Ready— It had been for some time a subject of much doubt with me<mutilated> who I should employ— There were two Painters, whose talents were great, though in some Respects different— I discovered in Peale's paintings the most striking likenesses— In Bembridge's the most elegant and superior Drapery— Whether I should prefer the first of these qualities or the last in a picture, I was not long in determining, since the principal End, is to give an absent friend, or posterity, an idea of a face whic<h> they had never seen, If the likeness then is a Bad one, the most perfect drapery will not stamp its value, any more than a Continental Bill which bears on its face the type of thousands— But the Question which perpl<exed m>e was, whether, it would not be better to run the risque of Bembr<idge> <mutilated> my likeness (as it is well known that there are traits in <mutilated> if fortunately taken, ensures the success of the <mutilated> the advantage of Drapery, or to be more certain <mutilated>der the disadvantages of having it daubed— <mutilated> at once relieved from my suspence, by the advice of Mr Powell, whose Judgment in Paintings I was well convinced of— His Reasons were <mutilated> Mr Bembridge was entitled to claim the superiority over any other Man <in> America— To a strong Genius, he has added every improvement which an<mutilated> study, and travelling could procure— He has seen all the finest paintings <mutilated> and his taste could not fail of being highly improved— Besides he has paints brought with him from Italy, which Peale cannot procure.

     I then determined at all events to fix my choice on him, and I am happy to assure you that the performance has fully justified the measure— The likeness is so striking that Persons who have never seen me more than once or twice, have discovered immediately the resemblance— I think I can see it myself and that is not very easy— I am sure at least that Peale could not have taken a stronger— And I can venture to affirm that in every other respect he is not equal to it— I intend to have an Elegant frame put to it— If I Remember well you desired it to be drawn to the knees— But I have ventured to oppose this instruction, and hope my reasons will be satisfactory— In this, I acted from the advice of my friends, as well as my own opinio<n> <mutilated> Gentleman if he is drawn below his middle, ought to be <mutilated> because otherwise if you stop at the kn<ees> <mutilated> with the disagreable idea, of his being <illegible> <mutilated> sta<nd>ing on his <s>tumps— It is not <mutilated> woman, becau<se> <mutilated> difference of dress changes the effect— This may be a false taste,¹ b<ut> I find it is a very general one— Beside the price would have been much greater, and this is material— In short I hope, and doubt not, but that you will be much better pleased with it, in it's present State— It <is> not yet finished, but will be in a fortnight— Talking ab<out> <mutilated> I cannot help telling you an anecdote which it produced— I was the <mutilated> Day talking with Mrs Powell on the subject and drawing a compariso<n> between the Virtues of the Painters— Well exclaimed I, If Mr Bembridge should be so fortunate as to strike my likeness, it will be a most Elegant Picture— Altho' this was innocently said, and only meant that the grand object of likeness being obtained, his superior talents in drapery would make his, (not nature's work) elegant, I soon discovere<d> that I had laid myself open to Mrs Powell's raillery, and that her Readiness to take advantage of the mistake, would not permit her to <illegible> <mutilated> over in silence— Nor did she— your servant Sir, I tend you h<mutilated> a very good opinion of yourself, and vainly suppose yourself a Perfect Adonis— The Reproof had it been serious, or had I deserved it, would have made me sincerly wish that I had been tongue tied— And even coming from Mrs Powell in the most pleasing raillery, I could not help blushing— However I soon recovered and we had a very hearty laugh at my expence— However she declared that if she should ever have the pleasure to see you, she would renew the Jest.

     In this manner do I spend the most happy Hours in that agreable family— I at once find Instruction and Entertainment, an<d> <mutilated> a<mutilated> days Study, it proves an agreable relaxation—for I visit very seldom, or at least stand perfectly independent of the stiff Rules of Etiquette, and go seldom to see anyone for whom I have not some attachment.

     April. 22d. As I have been a little unwell for some Days past I intend to take a ride into the Jearseys for a week or two, in full hopes that the Country air will perfectly restore my Health— I impute my <in>disposition to the approach of warm weather and a bad Cold which I have by some means contracted— I must confess that my Glass first told me I was sick, for I never felt it, nor ever knew it untill I saw that I had lost my flesh— This however is generally the Case with me in warm weather— When I wrote the first part of my Letter, I intended to have sent it by Post, but Mr Washington offering a much safer conveyance I resolved to wait untill he should sett of[f].

     My Picture is now finished all but the Frame, and you may expect it by the first safe water conveyance.

     If you can find an opportunity to send me some fine white Jains, I shall receive it as a very valuable present— I admire it for the summer, and it bears so high a price here, that I am deterred from purchasing any—added to this, I take a pleasure in carrying about me any thing which has come thro' your hands.

     I am almost ashamed to beg you to tell my Sister, Aunt & Mr Washington that I will write them by the next opportunity since this is an apology which looks too much like compromizing— However you may venture to assure them of <my> sincerest Love not as a common placed Compliment but as flow<ing> from a Heart in which they have a liberal Share, and I can venture to promise to you, that I will write them very soon— I feel myself at present not so well as I would wish to be, when I write a Letter.

     I inclose you a Letter from M<rs> Powel<l>.

     By the time you receive this, I have no doubt but that my Brothers will be with you— I envy you in some measure that happiness which their Company must diffuse through the whole family and which you in particular I know will sensibly Enjoy— I say envy—but do not from thence understand that I wish to Rob you of the smallest particle of your happiness, on the Contrary I <mutilated> desire nothing more, than that you may never know the want of <illegible>— I only wish to assure you how sincerely I participate with you— I confess I have a most unlimited desire to see them— the last time when I was so blessed, appears a long long time— However I hope that I shall not be oblidged to abstain longer than another year— Assure them if you Please of my sincere love and Friendship— I am Honoured Madam Your very affectionate & dutyful Son