[Letter from Juliet Upshur to her cousin, Elizabeth Upshur Teackle, May 18, 1806]

Vaucluse May 18^th, 1806

My dear cousin

Where yours of the 27th ultimo can have lain for almost a month, I cannot tell; but, true it is, that I have just now received it, and thinking your stay in Washington may possibly be longer than you at first contemplated, I have resolved to write to you immediately, in the hope, that my letter may yet reach you before your departure. I am, however, apprehensive that the poor letter will never have the honour of your perusal. I am not thus anxious because I have any important communications to make, or anything to say which can amuse, or interest you, but because I love to converse with my friends, and when I cannot do it verbally, I must even be satisfied with the best substitute.

How, my dear Betsy, could you make so extravagant a request! You desire me to inform you how much pleasure I receive from your

letters; do you then really think I can compute it? As well [torn left side of page] might you tell me to set bounds to infinity. Every line, nay, every word, produces so many exquisite and various delights, that the whole is beyond innumeration. To count the stars, and ascertain the dimensions of each, would be an easier task than that which you have assigned me. Now my beloved cousin, since you are made acquainted with your power to confer happiness, and since the blessings you bestow do not diminish your own, I have too firm a reliance on your charity and good nature to doubt of future favours.

I think of you very often; and cannot help sometimes wishing to be with you; particularly when you are going to Philadelphia. I must confess I feel a longing desire to visit that city again, notwithstanding I was so illy pleased when there. I was then a child, and preferred home and Mama to every thing else, but I suspect the same scenes which fatigued and disgusted me then, would be highly gratifying now. Give my particular love to Mr. Bancker’s family, himself included, if he will condescend to receive it. Kiss little Miss Bancker for me, and tell her she has my sincere good wishes, I want to see her very much. When will Sarah come to Virginia? When you write to me again (which I hope will be very soon), tell me what has become of Betsy Seargeant.

I feel interested in her welfare. Tell me also how Mrs. Fullerton is, and if you see her, be so good as to present my respects to her. I hear frequently from Eyre Hall, its inhabitants were well two days ago; cousin Ann is very thin, ‘tho I believe not more so, than when you saw her. You are no doubt before this apprized of your Aunt Kendall’s death. (Your sister I am sure has written to you since that event). Poor lady! Her situation has for some time been truly deplorable; and the only possible relief, was that which has at length arrived; and which must have been most ardently wished for, not only by her friends, but by herself. I have not seen nor heard from Eliza Teackle since I can remember. What has she done with [herself?]? I fancy the girl is too studious to visit her friends, and has forsaken all other society for that of books. Well, I dare say she has made a good choice; but upon my word I can’t speak experimentally, for I am not enough acquainted with that honourable fraternity to know how I like their company. Littleton has returned from Princeton, where he left our Brothers in good health, and situated to their mutual satisfaction. Our family is well, as I hope your Elizabeth soon will be; give my love to her, and tell her, I expect when she returns, she will be so townish, that she will