I will not omit any opportunity of writing, though ever so great an
uncertainty whether it will reach your hand. My uncle Smith has a vessel
bound to Calais. He advises me to write, and I most willingly comply,
though my faith in the conveyance is but poor. Indeed, I have lost my
faith with my spirits.
My friends assure me from their observations that you must have had a
good passage. God grant it, I say, but my fears and anxieties are many,
very many. I had a faith and reliance that supported me before, but now
my heart so misgives me that I cannot find that confidence which I wish
for. Your letter from Cape Ann arrived and cheered my drooping spirits.
Could I hear of your safe arrival, I would try to compose my agitated
mind, which has horrors both day and night.
My dear sons! Little do they know how many veins of their mother's heart
bled when she parted from them. My delicate Charles, how has he endured
the fatigue of his voyage? John is a hardy sailor, seasoned before. I do
not feel so much for him. Your fellow-travellers, too, I do not forget
to think of them. I will not wish myself with you, because you say a
lady cannot help being an odious creature at sea; and I will not wish
myself in any situation that should make me so to you.
Nothing new in the political way but the raising the siege of
Savannah[210] and being unfortunate. You will have particulars, no
doubt. Our friends are all well. Mr. Laurens is appointed to
Holland--has not yet given his answer. Adieu. Ever, ever yours,