When I sent you, as a Token of my constant Remembrance, my Melange about the Tunis Sheep,1 I intended to have written a Letter to accompany it. But it seems, that Nothing must go with a Pamphlet but the mere Direction, under the Pains & Penalties of sousing the Correspondent or Addressee of ^in^ all Costs of enormous Postage. It is really true, that, now for nearly 6 Years, I have abandoned Wine & all Stimulants, Segars & rich Food included. Every thing encreasing & accelerating the Blood, is hostile to my ^Health, & produces my^ constitutional Malady—an Accumulation of Blood on the Brain. This will, at the appointed Time, produce my french Leave of all sublunary Things. Finding that Health & rich Living were incompatible, I took the Resolution to abandon old Habits, & have sacredly kept it. I find myself, without Abstemiousness in plain Food, healthy generally, & what I think contributes much to preserve Health—innocently cheerful. I have, now & then (in Winter the worst) Attacks of Vertigo; which Cupping, or the Lancet, timely applied, remove. [illegible] This you may say is a History of my Secrets. You & I are on a Par in Age & other Circumstances—& may trust one another.

If the Information, & the Badinage, of the Communications on Sheep, have afforded you any Pleasure, be assured, that I think ^it^ among the most choice Remunerations I shall recieve. I was anxious to hear from you, but feared your Account of yourself would not be so favourable as I percieve it is. The best Wish (tho’ the Comparison may be coarse) I can express, is, that you may become as healthy as a Tunis Sheep;— because no Animal, within my Knowledge, from the Lord of the Creation, to the meanest Reptile, enjoys so much Health & Strength of Constitution. The Chancellor’s extraordinary Vision, or Dream, about Broad-tailed Sheep, obliged me to write more than was pleasing to myself. I closed what I had to say— by throwing at his Rump, and that of the baboonized Merino,— a Dutch Folio. I had cushioned it with Compliments, to prevent a hard Blow. I had devoted a Page to roast your Legislature first, & then baste them with the Drippings of the Broadtail; which I have christned the Chancellor’s Oil-Jug. But some prudential Considerations induced the omission of this sportive Production, lest some Jack-Asses might kick. It was well meant, but had great Influence on prejudiced People,—the patronizing & publishing by, & at the Expence of, your State, the Farrago which blotted out of Nature my innocent Barbarians. They are only so nominally, for they have all the Propensities of civilized Beings. I believe that Nothing but Hunger, will induce their breaking thro’ your Stone Walls, for I never knew so quiet & stationary a Sheep. Next Season you can have Lambs; but I do not know an old Sheep for Sale. In Carolina the Desire for them is as great as that for the Merino here. We have sent all we could procure, thither. I have layed a Plan for importing some. But I have not yet perfected it; & it is but lately that anything I said about them was listened to. I will, however, bear in Mind your Wish for some; & next Season, if you desire it, cheerfully endeavour to serve you Livingston phillippicks your Otter Sheep. You will see that he makes them out as bad as my Mongrels. Their crippled Feet are on the Principle that actuates the Chinese, in punishing their Females all their Lives, to prevent occasional Wanderings. But when a Desire to roam possesses any Female, she will indulge it, & does not care for a little Crippling. One time of our Lives, both of us could prove this, by Authorities & Facts, with Bi[tches] running upon all fours. We must leave these Proofs now, to younger Practitioners.

Speltz is an excellent & useful Grain. You can see an Account of it in our first Vol. 260.2 I have often saved it; but unless you are near a Shelling Mill, you must give it to your Horses. I abandoned the Culture of it, only because I had to send it a great Distance, for this Operation. There is a great Variety. — Some produces whiter Flour than Wheat— some as black as Rye.— Apropos—Gen[era]l Armstrong sent from Paris, to me, about two Quarts of the most extraordinary Rye I ever beheld. Under my Rage for Diffusion, I gave away, in all Quarters of our State, Spoon fulls, till I left myself only ½ a pint which is now vigorously growing. I wrote to him to procure a Tierce, or Hogshead, for me; but I suppose my Letter miscarried. I shall renew my Request, now he has got back to us. If he can spread this Rye plentifully thro’ our Country, he will do more Good, than all our Intercourse with the french Belial has done Harm. The Flour of this Rye is like that of Wheat, & it weighs 64 & 65: per Bushel. All our Rye has depretiated here. You must make to me some Grains of allowance, for my Antithesis as to french Intercourse. For this has done more Harm, than all their Rye is worth. I find myself with a wry Face, whenever I think of our gallick Prostrations.

Our 2d Vol. is nearly finished.3 I have been obliged to write too much, to fill up the Chasms. It is too Herculean a Task to keep alive agricultural Publications; and I shall give up a Labour which rolls back on me, like the Stone of Sysyphus. I have just sent the Preface to the Press. You will see that for Lack of a more tangible Monument to our departed Confriar, I have erected one out of my Ink Pot, with a Goose’s Feather. You may say when you see it, that any one could tell the Feather belonged to a Goose. But it will prove the Scarcity of agricultural Matter— even for a Preface— With all this, I think it will be a good Publication; & much better than I expected. The great Desideratum is to get People to read such Books. I have published with the Memoirs—as the Players say— By particular Desire—my Plaister Book newly vamped. Being tormented by Excuses to Dozens of Requests to obtain new Facts on Plaister— the Thourough Bass being Dread of Criticism— I have told a Story ^for the petty Criticks,^ in the Preface (pushed for Matter) which will probably bring the Wasps on me, & not procure a single Correspondent to satisfy my agricultural Curiosity. When it is finished I will send it to you. I sincerely wish you may pass a better Winter than you seem to express a Hope of experiencing, & am most affectionately yours,

Turn Pandora’s Box Bottom upwards; & get Hope out first.

Dr. Logan4 called on me with a new invented Micrometer, to measure the Filaments of Wool; whereof he was the Bearer for our Society. The Filament sent with the Instrument was 16/10,000 Parts of an Inch in Fineness; & no Doubt selected. My Tunis wool is considerably finer. He says they find in England, that they have overmanufactured; & the Rage is turning to Agriculture. There is no Bullion; & Paper has depretiated. He saw Store Cattle that would not sell here for more than [illegible] $15, sell, at Fairs, for £15 Sterling in Paper. A Milch Cow & Calf, worth here 25$, sold for £20 Sterls. A universal Wish to be in Friendship with us, was expressed by all People of all Grades in Society; Lord Wellesley told him, that he had in his Office Proofs of an Offer from Buonaparte, to divide this Country with England. Burr was sent from England at the Request of the Spaniards, & Fouche had Nothing to do with this French Offer, tho’ our French Presses say so. He gives me many entertaining Pieces of Information, which my Paper obliges me to omit. Young Erskine has settled on a large Tract of poor Land in Sussex, & forgotten.