[Letter from Elizabeth Upshur Teackle to her sister, Ann Upshur Eyre, February 12, 1810]

Feby 12^th '10 P.A.

My dearest sister

I had the pleasure of receiving your charming rattle, enhanced by having it handed me by your friend Mr. Bowdoin. He was in town and sitting down to dinner before Mr. T knew of it, or he wou’d have sooner been with us than to supper, when we had the pleasure of his society, with doctor Wise and Colo. Wilson. They were here all night but refused to dine with us next day on a plea of an engagement at home. Be assur’d my dear sister I shall always feel proud to acknowledge the many politenesses I have receiv’d from my Northampton fds. amongst whom I think Mr. B. has greater claims on our hospitality than most others. He is a fine fellow at home, and has always taken the trouble to make strangers welcome there; the least his friends and they can do, is to

make his time agreeable when he diverges from his own proper sphere of hospitality.

Tell my dear brother that however much we are indebted to you for your last summers visit, we have not entirely gotten over that stumbling block of Etiquette at wh he was brought up last summer. He has only half repaid our many favours. When he sent his half only to cancel the obligation, which cannot be done ‘till the other half comes, himself. This we insist on, but if he absolutely perseveres in refusing us justice, we’ll go down together and sue him in the county court. For which purpose, in case of accidents, I beg as a favour you’d speak to Mr. G. Parker as our counsel. We’ll pay him for his service, whenever he is so good as to call on us in P. A.

Will you not stare when you hear that I am on the eve of setting off for Balt? Mr. Teackle will have me with him all the time, he has to stay in the U.S. being about to make a voyage

to the W. Indies, he sails from B. in his new ship which he has contracted for with the government of Hayti. I hope my dear fellow’s unremitting exertions may at last be crown’d with success. He has drudged all his life like a packhorse and like a poor maltreated packhorse has often met with nothing but abuse and ingratitude for those exertions which were intended as the united medium of serving others, as well as securing a reward for himself. This is the way of the world. Oh sister! sister! I am sick of this world. “I am sick of many griefs,” wou’d I were cured of them all or had been bless’d with a convenient callosity of soul, proof against them all. “But no more of “this.” This is childish. No. I am a woman, and as God is in Heaven, I have that within me which will bear me out! A little Philosophy and a great deal more Pride, and so “away with melancholy.” I suppose

I shall have the option of either to be extremely gay and agreeable, or extremely moping and hum drum when I once get fairly set down in that delectable reservoir of everything that is ridiculous and fashionable Balt. This I have not weigh’d sufficiently well to determine my plan of action yet, but am rather inclin’d like my lady Grace in the play, “to do all things soberly.” But sister, you shall know all how and about it, drunk or sober, faithfully detailed as soon as I have mustered up incidents sufficient to compile an interesting journal of Town dinners and suppers, Beaux with bon mots and belles with fine clothes, Duchess and all. We go through Easton, where we have three invitations to take up our lodging Mr. Ker, Mrs. Teackle, and Mr. Lockerman. We shall go to the Public House. Arthur will return with me as soon as Mr. T. embarks, by the way of Cambridge.

[Last page(s) of letter are missing.]