We have finally learned, my lovable papa, that you have arrived in your country, in good health, that you were honored there the way you deserve, that you are in the arms of your daughter, surrounded by your grandchildren and your friends, that you are finally happy! My heart worriedly followed you during your trip, and its tenderness for you needed to know that you are at peace. This softens a bit the ineffaceable pain of being separated from you. My friend is happy, I constantly tell myself! I should be as well. But my worthy friend, I am so far from your philosophy, I am so unwise in friendship that always, always, the distance that separates us will painfully tear at my heart. At very least, think sometimes of her who of all your women friends loved you the most, and pen her a few lines in what you call your bad French. As for me, I shall keep you up on a family who was dear to you! We have just married our younger daughter to a young man twenty-seven years old, a good sort, gentle and amiable, (he will take over Mr. Brillon's position) and we have every reason to believe that she will be as happy as her older sister; both ask me to give you their regards. The older one is expecting her second child and her little one, whom you saw, is becoming more and more pretty and interesting. Grandpapa Brillon's health is good as is mine. We all live together; our house has imperceptibly become a patriarchal tribe. Peace and happiness surround us; we know how to find them in our home and to focus on each other. Our memories of you often add further charms to our happiness. We go over with pleasure and sensitivity everything we said to you and your replies; we indulgently fall back on pleasures gone by. The time spent with you will always be very dear to us. Its traces are deeply engraved in our souls. Though there is a tinge of sadness in the present and the future, even our regrets have a certain sweetness, for we repeat: papa is happy! We have been happy! To have been, to still be, forever, the friends of this amiable sage who knew how to be a great man without pomp, a learned man without austerity, a sensitive human being without weakness, yes, my good papa, your name will be engraved in the temple of memory but each of our hearts is, for you, a temple of friendship.

All our mutual friends ask me to give you their regards. Don't forget us to your grandson whom we shall also love forever, nor to Benjamin; if I dared, I would also ask you to say something kind to your daughter. I know how worthy she is, and surely she must love me a little for all of the tenderness I have for you.