Before this time I fancy you at your journey's end. I have pitied you.
The season has been a continued cold. I have heard oftener from you than
I ever did in any of your former journeys. It has greatly relieved my
mind under its anxiety. I have received six letters from you, and have
the double pleasure of hearing you are well and that your thoughts are
often turned this way.
I have wrote once, by Major Rice. Two gentlemen set off for Baltimore
Monday or Tuesday, and have engaged to take this letter. I feel under so
many restraints when I sit down to write, that I scarcely know what to
say to you. The conveyance of letters is so precarious that I shall not
trust anything of consequence to them, until we have more regular
passes.
Indeed, very little of any consequence has taken place since you left
us. We seem to be in a state of tranquillity--rather too much so. I
wish there was a little more zeal shown to join the army.
Nothing new, but the regulating bill engrosses their attention. The
merchant scolds, the farmer growls, and every one seems wroth that he
cannot grind his neighbor.
We have a report here, said to come in two private letters, that a
considerable battle has taken place in Brunswick, in which we have taken
fifteen thousand prisoners. I cannot credit so good news. The letters
are said to be without date.
I beg you would write by every opportunity, and if you cannot send so
often as you used to, write and let them lie by till you make a packet.
What has become of the Farmer. Many reports are abroad to his
disadvantage.
I feel as if you were in a foreign country. Philadelphia seemed close
by; but now I hardly know how to reconcile myself to the thought that
you are five hundred miles distant; but though distant, you are always
near to