"June 14th, 1777. By a person from Borden-town, we hear twelve expresses
came in there today from camp. Some of the gondola-men and their wives
being sick, and no doctor in town to apply to, they were told Mrs.
Morris was a skillful woman, and kept medicines to give to the poor; and
notwithstanding their late attempts to shoot my poor boy, they ventured
to come to me, and in a very humble manner begged me to come and do
something for them. At first I thought they might design to put a trick
on me, get me aboard their gondola, and then pillage my house, as they
had done some others; but on asking where the sick folks were, I was
told they were lodged in the Governor's house. So I went to see them;
there were several, both men and women, very ill with a fever; some
said, the camp or putrid fever. They were broke out in blotches; and
on close examination, it appeared to be the itch fever. I treated them
according to art, and they all got well. I thought I had received all
my pay when they thankfully acknowledged my kindness; but lo! in a short
time afterwards a very rough ill-looking man came to the door and asked
for me. When I went to him he drew me aside, and asked if I had any
friends in Philadelphia. The question alarmed me, supposing there
was some mischief meditated against that poor city; however, I calmly
said--'I have an ancient father, some sisters, and other near friends
there.'
"'Well,' said the man, 'do you wish to hear from them, or send any thing
by way of refreshment to them? If you do, I will take charge of it, and
bring you back any thing you may send for.'
"I was very much surprised, and thought, to be sure, he only wanted to
get provisions to take to the gondolas; but when he told me his wife
was one of those I had given medicine to, and this was the only thing he
could do to pay me for my kindness, my heart leaped with joy, and I set
about preparing something for my dear absent friends. A quarter of beef,
some veal, fowls and flour, were soon put up; and about midnight the
man called and took them aboard his boat. He left them at Robert
Hopkins'--at the Point--whence my beloved friends took them to town.
"Two nights afterwards, a loud knocking at our front door greatly
alarmed us, and opening the chamber window we heard a man's voice,
saying, 'Come down softly and open the door, but bring no light.'
"There was something mysterious in such a call; but we concluded to go
down and set the candle in the kitchen.
"When we got to the front door, we asked, 'Who are you?'
"The man replied, 'A friend; open quickly.' So the door was opened; and
who should it be but our honest gondola-man, with a letter, a bushel of
salt, a jug of molasses, a bag of rice, some tea, coffee, and sugar, and
some cloth for a coat for my poor boys; all sent by my kind sisters!
"How did our hearts and eyes overflow with love to them, and thanks to
our Heavenly Father, for such seasonable supplies! May we never forget
it! Being now so rich, we thought it our duty to hand out a little to
the poor around us, who were mourning for want of salt; so we divided
the bushel, and gave a pint to every poor person who came for it--having
abundance left for our own use. Indeed, it seemed to us as if our
little store was increased by distribution, like the bread broken by our
Saviour to the multitude."