Braintree, 4 May, 1775.
I have but little news to write you. Everything of that kind you will
learn by a more accurate hand than mine. Things remain in much the same
situation here that they were when you went away. There has been no
descent upon the seacoast. Guards are regularly kept, and people seem
more settled and are returning to their husbandry. I feel somewhat
lonely. Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr. Rice is going into the army, as
captain of a company. We have no school. I know not what to do with
John. As government is assumed, I suppose courts of justice will be
established, and in that case there may be business to do. If so, would
it not be best for Mr. Thaxter to return? They seem to be discouraged in
the study of law, and think there never will be any business for them. I
could have wished they had consulted you upon the subject, before you
went away.
I suppose you will receive two or three volumes of that forlorn wretch
Hutchinson's letters.[69] Among many other things, I hear he wrote in
1772, that Deacon Phillips and you had like to have been chosen into the
Council, but, if you had, you should have shared the same fate with
Bowers.[70] May the fate of Mordecai be his. There is nobody admitted
into town yet. I have made two or three attempts to get somebody in, but
cannot succeed; so have not been able to do the business you left in
charge with me. I want very much to hear from you, how you stood your
journey, and in what state you find yourself now. I felt very anxious
about you; though I endeavored to be very insensible and heroic, yet my
heart felt like a heart of lead. The same night you left me, I heard of
Mr. Quincy's death, which, at this time, was a most melancholy event;
especially as he wrote in minutes, which he left behind, that he had
matters of consequence intrusted with him, which, for want of a
confidant, must die with him.[71] I went to see his distressed widow
last Saturday, at the Colonel's; and in the afternoon, from an alarm
they had, she and her sister, with three others of the family, took
refuge with me and tarried all night. She desired me to present her
regards to you, and let you know she wished you every blessing,--should
always esteem you as a sincere friend of her deceased husband. Poor,
afflicted woman; my heart was wounded for her. I must quit the subject,
and entreat you to write me by every opportunity.
Yours,