Philadelphia, 12 August, 1776.
Mr. A.[150] sets off to-day, if the rain should not prevent him, with
Colonel Whipple, of Portsmouth, a brother of the celebrated Miss Hannah
Whipple, a sensible and worthy man. By him I have sent you two bundles
of letters, which I hope you will be careful of. I thought I should not
be likely to find a safer opportunity. By them you will see that my
private correspondence alone is business enough for a lazy man. I think
I have answered all but a few of those large bundles.
A French vessel, a pretty large brigantine, deeply laden, arrived here
yesterday from Martinique. She had fifty barrels of limes, which are all
sold already, at such prices that the amount of them will be sufficient
to load the brig with flour. The trade, we see, even now, in the midst
of summer, is not totally interrupted by all the efforts of our enemies.
Prizes are taken in no small numbers. A gentleman told me, a few days
ago, that he had summed up the sugar which has been taken, and it
amounted to three thousand hogsheads, since which two other ships have
been taken and carried into Maryland. Thousands of schemes for
privateering are afloat in American imaginations. Some are for taking
the Hull ships, with woolens, for Amsterdam and Rotterdam; some are for
the tin ships; some for the Irish linen ships; some for outward bound,
and others for inward bound Indiamen; some for the Hudson's Bay ships,
and many for West India sugar ships. Out of these speculations, many
fruitless and some profitable projects will grow.
We have no news from New York. All is quiet as yet. Our expectations are
raised. The eyes of the world are upon Washington and Howe, and their
armies. The wishes and prayers of the virtuous part of it, I hope, will
be answered. If not, yet virtues grow out of affliction.
I repeat my request that you would ask some of the members of the
General Court if they can send me horses; and if they cannot, that you
would send them. I can live no longer without a servant and a horse.