[Letter from Elizabeth Upshur Teackle to her sister, Ann Upshur Eyre, April 5, 1813]

5^th Ap^l 1813 P.A.

Your only letter from Phila, my dear sister, for which you make so many apologies, has been more interesting to me, I dare say, than if you had studied, with time and labour sufficient to write one of the most elaborate essays that ever fell from the pens of Addison, Steele, Goldsmith and every other miscellaneous author of celebrity. The very confusion, and hurry you were in, served to give me, as you described it, a more adequate idea of your exact situation, and occupations; and be assured, I was not a little gratified to observe that this very bustle, and hurry, of which you complain so loudly, was a source of pleasure to you, and had given your spirits no small fillup. Indeed, “I am so constantly interested for you in all the different stages of your feelings, pleasures, and pains, that you have been, for a long time, eternally in my thoughts; but those particularly now that you are travelling over the ground of our former passage into life together, when youth gave an electrical impulse to ever feeling; and hope, untarnished by disappointment and painful reflection; pointed the way to a future life of prosperity, and happiness. Whether or not my gilded visions have continued to warm my heart, and brighten my days I will leave you to judge

God help me! Few indeed are entitled I believe (justly) to look for Elysian sunshine and smiling hours to brighten their lengthen’d days, and lead their steps through a journey of perfect bliss in this life. Then if I have had my clouds and storms, if Hope has veil’d her lovely face in my sight, I have no right to accuse or complain. I am only afraid that I have been but too ungrateful for those gleams of happiness, those cheering impulses of Hope that, most certainly, have made me happy at some periods of my life. And I do sincerely believe that every pain I have endured, I have deserved; and that, generally, my misery has accrued from the bad regulation of my own mind, to correct which is in our power, in some degree, at least.

I have followed you through every scene and enjoy’d with you every pleasure you have tasted in this journey. The pains of it, perhaps, I have not been so complaisant to: for some of your travelling miseries, you know, never have affected me, as my nerves, though bad enough, are not bad in the exact way that yours are, at all times, for instance when you were wandering like a princess of Romance, in search of an asylum, instead of feeling for you, I envied you

for everyone feels a degree of importance in such situations, and thinks that the whole world observes and subscribes to it. Any my little misfortune (which is likely to be remedied) we can bear, not only with patience, but pleasure, when we are sure of being, thereby, made the objects of observation and sympathy. In having had a tooth drawn, and in having had blood let, I have felt the same self consequence and complacency. Sometimes matters as trivial will administer to our vanity in a different way. Sir Isaac Bickerstaff dictates, with much humour, on his Sister Jenny’s self importance on muttering on a new pair of garters, for which she gave herself great airs, and seemed peculiarly complacent, although no soul breathing cou’d possibly know she had a new pair of garters. Therefore, to be objects of public notice, even in the most unimportant affairs, or to be conscious of possessing any advantage, however insignificant, and unobserved, over other people, all has a tendency to make us pleased with ourselves, and, of course, happy.

I can scarcely tell how I have swell’d this letter to the present size, wholly destitute, as I am, of local matter, which is always so convenient, and indeed more

interesting to a familiar correspondent in writing or receiving a letter. Truly I breathe on in the same dull routine as when you set out on your travels; and have little to diversify the scene, save the several minutia of gardening &c. In this last business, I am become, all at once, the envy and admiration of all my rivals, for my garden surpasses them all this year. One misfortune, as usual, however has tarnished my glory, for a little black devil has broken off one of my choicest hyacinths at the very time when I was waiting, with all a florist’s interest to see its bloom. This leads me to say that John Brown tells me that Hyacinth roots may be bought in the market for 11^d each and if that is the case, you may bring me any quantity, but however I think it wou’d be advisable to take a pleasant walk to a gardener’s that he says lives on the outlets of the city and, observing their bloom, you will be a better judge of the roots; and moreover it wou’d be better to have them taken up in bloom, and put in a dirt box till your return, and then they may be taken out, and packed up. Deep blue-purple, yellow, and deep pink or those colours I have most need of

and if you can get me some few roots of fine parrot-tail’d and other choice tulips I shall be gratified. As all these little affairs begin to constitute my chief amusement at home. Don’t forget the cauliflower and early York cabbage seeds.

I am amazingly pleased to find your cap and bonnet took up a place of so much fashion and taste, and I am so endeavouring to finish your handkerchief to send by John Brown. It is very nearly half done and is more exquisite the farther I proceed. I will venture to say it will be admired. The blue flower is very pretty, and also the levantine, and cord. They all please me, and I shall speldorify my scul pate most notably with my new bonnet that is to be. I want you to see Sam Ewing, I have always felt an interest for him. And have you seen Ben Wilcox? Did Kintsing¹ deign to notice you? Was it the black hair “languid loving’ youth you saw at the Theater, what play was it? Poor Mrs. Fullerton! What did she say about me? and Mrs Biddle? I pray you give me a go, against I go to Phila, amongst the cognoscenti. Mr. T wishes me to go this spring, but I choose to go with you to W as I think I can do more good by it

How does my kind brother John? I suppose by this he is in Chambersburgh. I want him to go there, as Dear Mrs. Lyon will receive so much real pleasure in seeing him. When you write to her, give her my warmest good wishes, and thanks for the constant politeness and friendship she has always honour’d me with.

I shall write to you again by John, and I hope he may arrive in time to shew your hand.

I have been extremely unwell for a week past with a cold which I take to be the influenza, as I feel just as I did when I had it before. I am better today however. Cousin Nelly and Betsy and every body have the same severe cold. I am uneasy about yours for you are in no situation to give it proper attention. Take as much care as you can. I wrote to you by the last mail to request Eliza to send me some gilt paper and pink, 6 sheets of the latter and one of gilt. Please to send them by Mr. Wilson.

God bless you! Love to all inquiring friends. Write me constantly: and you must know how much amusement your details will give me in my lonely situation.

E.U.T.