I am Yankee. Love to all. ELIZA S. BOWNE. Sally Weeks remember me to—and all other friends; Betsey Tappan—tell her Mr. Bowne often speaks of that sweet little Miss Tappan. How comes on Father’s house, Octavia? We both depend on its being finished next season. We think very seriously of coming next summer. Mr. Bowne wants to go almost as much as myself. Love to Sister, hope she is well again. Uncle Rufus told me Mr. Boyd had been very sick, but I did not mention it, lest it might alarm sister. Adieu. Love to Zilpah and Lucia. Tell Zilpah Mrs. Bogert came to see me last week and is in hopes she will come on with her father. Remember me affectionately to all Mrs. Davis’ family. I sometimes treat myself with telling my Husband all about our charming frolics. Does not Mr. Davis talk anything of coming to New York? Louise is quite a belle I suppose. Miss Southgate. New York, July 23, 1803. I have sent a few sugar toys to the children, which you must divide,—the cradle for Mary, the basket for Arixene, etc., etc.,—pair shoes apiece, two little dogs I put up in the music—one looks like Sancho; a little frock I send as a pattern for Miranda, Arixene, and Mary, long or short sleeves as you please, whalebone in the back, laced. I have sent another box of things to Isabella’s children: the paper box I mean for them; two little fans for Arixene and Mary, with their names on them, you’ll find in the bottom of the box. The two songs I sent you are all I could find that struck me; for the “Death of Allen,” I never heard it, and bought it because it was a composition of Floyd’s; “The Wounded Hussar” I admired and knew you could not get it set for the Piano,—I don’t know but ’tis different from Miss Sandford’s. I write in great haste—we are going to dine at Uncle Rufus’ out of town; ’tis past eleven. They have a delightful place on the North River; took tea there last week. Mr. Bowne joins me in love to Father and Mother and all. How comes on the house, Octavia?—we want to come very much next Summer. Adieu. Yours, E. S. B.