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

P Anne

My dear girl,

Only think how good I am grown. I have just left a party of agreeables in the shape of pantaloons in the drawing room, where I was the only woman, and of course, more attended to than any other belle in the room, (think of the sacrifice!) to scribble a letter to you, via Mr. Dorsey, who has just sent me a notoriety of his intention to leave this by the dake of bray¹ tomorrow, which will be Saturday and today is Friday. But not being near an almanack, I don’t know exactly what day of Feb[ruar]y it is. Now be it known to you that all I had to say I sent by Nate, your ambassador plenipotentiary, a few days ago. But as I am willing to put you in an amazing good sort of humour, I have judged it best, notwithstanding the beaux are in the drawing room, and I the only belle worth noticing in the house, to desert all of them and write you another letter informing you of what you may have had some intuiting of from my last letter, which is that I am all anxiety to see you, and that I am now looking out every day for your outrider, for the weather since Nate’s departure has been so fine that I have actually planted my pease a week ago, and you may therefore be expected reasonably. To be coming up, although my pease are not, for I have scratched for them twice. But this may easily

be accounted for as the pease have only been in the ground a week next Monday. Whereas you have been they tell the underground, that is in the cellar ever since you left me which, according to my calculation, has been seven years at least, so you may be expected to come up before the pease, which I hope will be in the course of two or three days.

There is to be a grand comfussment (charming! I am charmed with the conceit of that word) there is to be, I say, a grand comfussment ( I like it more and more!) here on the 22^d and I do sincerely wish you and Mr. Eyre to be here then, so to make sure of the thing, come on directly. There will be a grand parade, musick by the gentlemen amateur, an oration by Colonel Done, and cannonading by Cogswell, the great blunderbuss of the country. Cog is great, I assure you at the touch pole, if one may judge by the noise he makes with it. There will also be a great ball in the evening. If you are here I shall go to it, as Major Carroll will be there, and it is, I find, a high time for me to look sharp in that quarter, as the Major told me today at dinner that he intended to volunteer his services to the public and shou’d petition to be stationed right down at your landing for the purpose of protecting the coast. He was violently offended when the Governor said something about “fine oysters in that neighborhood.” His gallantry took the alarm

He never thought of oysters when a lady’s safety was in the case.” Well, you’ll get the Major from me I predict, but I have other irons in the fire, and if he cools I am only to stir the sparks and heat the others hotter. They have all gone to Brag in the other room it seems, and I am bragging as boldly here you will think. But “there’s rum” as Miss Betsy said. What I say I’ll prove, so here’s at you, Major or no Major, I have the majority. That is, in the publics, tag rag and bobtail. Don’t be alarm’d because I say bob. It’s written with a little b you observe, not a proper name, therefore, not your Bob of Bobbies, although he sent his best suspects to me the other day in a letter to Mr T. And last summer, too, he said, something very civil in the same way. So, “he wou’d be a soldier.” Well, Bobby, you must look catering in your regimentals!” If I shou’d have been to see him now. I a gone goose. Oh! News, Major Martin and Doctor Murray and I don’t know who all, are to be here on the events [of the] 22^d.

What a rant I have written! I had as well be in a gay humour as a sad one, and I am always glad when I can get my spirits up. This is all is owing to my expecting you up.

Love to Mr. Eyre with Mr. T’s to both of you God bless you!

E.U.T.

PS you’ll notice how bored I have grown of this same up ever since I read Mr. Maxwell’s [procuriosity].