In another letter of about the same time: 

“You do not know how much I have missed you and the children, my dear Mary.  To be alone in a crowd is very solitary.  In the woods, I feel sympathy with the trees and birds, in whose company I take delight, but experience no pleasure in a strange crowd.  I hope you are all well and will continue so, and, therefore, must again urge you to be very prudent and careful of those dear children.  If I could only get a squeeze at that little fellow, turning up his sweet mouth to ‘keese baba!’ You must not let him run wild in my absence, and will have to exercise firm authority over all of them.  This will not require severity or even strictness, but constant attention and an unwavering course.  Mildness and forebearance will strengthen their affection for you, while it will maintain your control over them.”

In a letter to one of his sons he writes as follows: 

“I cannot go to bed, my dear son, without writing you a few lines to thank you for your letter, which gave me great pleasure ...  You and Custis must take great care of your kind mother and dear sisters when your father is dead.  To do that you must learn to be good.  Be true, kind and generous, and pray earnestly to God to enable you to keep His Commandments ’and walk in the same all the days of your life.’  I hope to come on soon to see that little baby you have got to show me.  You must give her a kiss for me, and one to all the children, to your mother, and grandmother.”

The expression of such sentiments as these was common to my father all through his life, and to show that it was all children and not his own little folk alone that charmed and fascinated him, I quote from a letter to my mother: 

" ...  I saw a number of little girls all dressed up in their white frocks and pantalets, their hair plaited and tied up with ribbons, running and chasing each other in all directions.  I counted twenty-three nearly the same size.  As I drew up my horse to admire the spectacle, a man appeared at the door with the twenty-fourth in his arms.

“‘My friend,’ said I, ‘are all these your children?’

“‘Yes,’ he said, ’and there are nine more in the house, and this is the youngest.’

“Upon further inquiry, however, I found that they were only temporarily his, and that they were invited to a party at his house.  He said, however, he had been admiring them before I came up, and just wished that he had a million of dollars, and that they were all his in reality.  I do not think the eldest exceeded seven or eight years old.  It was the prettiest sight I have seen in the west, and, perhaps, in my life. ...”

As Superintendent of the Military Academy at West Point my father had to entertain a good deal, and I remember well how handsome and grand he looked in uniform, how genial and bright, how considerate of everybody’s comfort of mind and body.  He was always a great favourite with the ladies, especially the young ones.  His fine presence, his gentle, courteous manners and kindly smile put them at once at ease with him.