_To Mr. S―――― S――――._
_Bethesda, April 21, 1770._
_Dear Sir_,
ALTHOUGH I have scarce time to turn round, being just setting off
for _Philadelphia_, yet I must drop a few lines to my old invariable
friend. As I hear nothing to the contrary, I suppose he is yet in this
dying world. Well! so that we die daily to ourselves and the world, all
is well, and shall end well. This I am persuaded is your happy case.
In some degree, I trust, it is mine. Would you think it? My bodily
strength seems to be renewed, and every thing at _Bethesda_ is in a
most promising way. Dear Mr. _D――――n_, the bearer of this, must be
referred to for particulars. Never did I spend such a comfortable
domestic winter, as the last. Never was a man blessed with a better set
of skilful, peaceful, laborious helpers. All is of grace, with which,
that you, your dear yoke-fellow, and other connections, may be filled
brimful, is the hearty prayer of, my very dear Sir,
Less than the least of all,
_G. W._