_To Mr. S―――― S――――._
_Concord, 20 miles from Boston, March 10, 1764._
_My very dear Friend_,
SINCE my last I suppose you have heard one way or another of my being
in this dying world, and in some measure improved for propagating the
glorious gospel. _New York_ was _New-York_ indeed. We saw blessed days
of the Son of Man there. Since that, in my way to these parts, a divine
influence attended the word preached in various places. And how would
you have been delighted to have seen Mr. _Wheelock_’s Indians? Such a
promising nursery of future missionaries, I believe was never seen in
_New-England_ before: pray encourage it with all your might. I also
wish you could give some useful puritanical books to _Harvard-college_
library, lately burnt down. Few perhaps will give such; and yet a
collection of that kind is absolutely necessary for future students and
poor neighbouring ministers, to whom I find the books belonging to the
library are freely lent out from time to time. You will not be angry
with me for these hints. I know your ambitious greedy soul: you want
to grow richer and richer towards GOD. O that there may be in me such
a mind! But my wings are clipped. I can only preach twice or thrice a
week with comfort. And yet a wider door than ever is opened all along
the continent. A beginning is made in _Boston_. But as the small-pox
is spreading there, I purpose preaching for a while in adjacent places.
With what success, you may know hereafter. I send you and yours these
few lines as a token of gratitude, respect, and love unfeigned; but
must still beg you to add to my obligations, by continuing to pray for,
my very dear friends,
Yours, &c. &c. in our glorious Head,
_G. W._