I received your second letter this morning, my good papa; it was impossible for me not to be affected when I read that you had been sick. Please keep yourself well! The happiness of your friends, the tranquillity and the glory of America require it. I will be returning on Thursday the twenty-fifth; I intend to arrive in time for dinner. Should I describe what pleasure it will be for me to see you again? No, that can be felt, but never be expressed more than imperfectly in words. Descend into your heart; there you will find the truth. That truth which imagination paints for us in so many different aspects can only be found there. If man interrogated his heart before behaving in a certain way, or taking such and such an action, all human beings would be good, and as happy as their physical and moral imperfection allowed them to be. My good papa, I am quite accustomed to consulting my own heart; it reproaches me with nothing regarding my friendship for you. On the contrary, it tells me that in order to grow wise, it is necessary to attach oneself to those who are wise, and the more I love you, the more I will profit in every way. Therefore I let myself follow this sweet inclination, and I tell you about it with honesty. Farewell, my amiable papa; accept the respects of my good mother, my brother, Father Pagin, and my children; and permit us to give a thousand kind regards to Monsieur your [grand]son.