Philadelphia, 2 October, 1775.
Everything here is in as good a way as I could wish, considering the
temper and designs of Administration. I assure you the letters have had
no such bad effects as the Tories intended, and as some of our
short-sighted Whigs apprehended; so far otherwise, that I see and hear
every day fresh proofs that everybody is coming fast into every
political sentiment contained in them. I assure you I could mention
compliments passed upon them, and if a serious decision could be had
upon them, the public voice would be found in their favor.
But I am distressed with cares of another kind. Your two letters are
never out of my thoughts. I should have mounted my horse this day for
Braintree if I had not hopes of hearing further from you in a day or
two. However, I will hope that your prospects are more agreeable than
they were, and that the children are all better, as well as the rest of
the family, and the neighbors. If I should hear more disagreeable
advices from you, I shall certainly come home, for I cannot leave you in
such affliction without endeavoring to lessen it, unless there was an
absolute necessity of my staying here to do a duty to the public, which
I think there is not.
I must beg to be excused, my dear, from hinting at anything for the
future, of public persons or things. Secrecy is so much exacted. But
thus much I may say, that I never saw so serious and determined a
spirit. I must also beseech you to be cautious what you write to me and
by whom you send. Letters sent to the care of Colonel Warren will come
safe. My regards, with all proper distinctions, to my relations and
yours, my friends and yours, my acquaintances and yours.
This will go by Major Bayard, a gentleman of the Presbyterian persuasion
in this city, of excellent character, to whom I am indebted for a great
many civilities.