You must have learnt the particulars of the commencement of my journey: you know that I set out in a brilliant manner in a carriage, and I must now tell you that we are all on horseback,--having broken the carriage, according to my usual praiseworthy custom,--and I hope soon to write to you that we have arrived on foot. The journey is somewhat fatiguing; but although several of my comrades have suffered a great deal, I have scarcely myself been conscious of fatigue. The captain who takes charge of this letter will, perhaps, pay you a visit; I beg you in that case to receive him with great kindness.
I scarcely dare think of the time of your confinement, and yet I think of it every moment of the day. I cannot dwell upon it without the most dreadful anxiety. I am, indeed, unfortunate, at being so distant from you; even if you did not love me, you ought to pity me; but you do love me, and we shall mutually render each other happy. This little note will be short in comparison to the volumes I have already sent you, but you shall receive another letter in a few days from me.
The farther I advance to the north, the better pleased am I with the country and inhabitants. There is no attention or kindness that I do not receive, although many scarcely know who I am. But I will write all this to you more in detail from Philadelphia. I have only time to intreat you, my dearest love, not to forget an unhappy man, who pays most dearly for the error he committed in parting from you, and who never felt before how tenderly he loved you.
My respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen, and my affectionate regards to my sisters. Tell M. de Coigny and M. de Poix that I am in good health, in case some letters should miscarry which I shall send by another opportunity, by which I shall also send a line to you, although I do not consider it so secure as this one.
I am always meeting, my dearest love, with opportunities of sending letters; I have this time only a quarter of an hour to give you. The vessel is on the point of sailing, and I can only announce to you my safe arrival at Annapolis, forty leagues from Philadelphia. I can tell you nothing of the town, for, as I alighted from my horse, I armed myself with a little weapon dipt in invisible ink. You must already have received five letters from me, unless King George should have received some of them. The last one was despatched three days since; in it I announced to you that my health was perfectly good, and had not been even impaired by my anxiety to arrive at Philadelphia. I have received bad news here; Ticonderoga, the strongest American post, has been forced by the enemy; this is very unfortunate, and we must endeavour to repair the evil. Our troops have taken, in retaliation, an English general officer, near New York. I am each day more miserable from having quitted you, my dearest love; I hope to receive news of you at Philadelphia, and this hope adds much to the impatience I feel to arrive in that city. Adieu, my life; I am in such haste that I know not what I write, but I do know that I love you more tenderly than ever; that the pain of this separation were necessary to convince me how very dear you are to me, and that I would give at this moment half my existence for the pleasure of embracing you again, and telling you with my own lips how well I love you. My respects to Madame d'Ayen, my compliments to the viscountess, my sisters, and all my friends: to you only have I time to write. O! if you knew how much I sigh to see you, how much I suffer at being separated from you, and all that my heart has been called on to endure, you would think me somewhat worthy of your love! I have left no space for Henriette; may I say for my children? Give them a hundred thousand embraces; I shall most heartily share them with you.
