University of Virginia Library

TO JOHN ADAMS.[1]

I have but little news to write you. Every thing of
that kind you will learn by a more accurate hand
than mine. Things remain in much the same situation
here, that they were when you went away.
There has been no descent upon the seacoast.
Guards are regularly kept; and people seem more
settled, and are returning to their husbandry. I feel
somewhat lonely. Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr.
Rice is going into the army, as captain of a company.
We have no school. I know not what to do
with John. As government is assumed, I suppose
courts of justice will be established, and in that case,
there may be business to do. If so, would it not be
best for Mr. Thaxter to return? They seem to be
discouraged in the study of law, and think there

never will be any business for them. I could have
wished they had consulted you upon the subject, before
you went away.

I suppose you will receive two or three volumes
of that forlorn wretch Hutchinson's letters. Among
many other things, I hear he wrote, in 1772, that
Deacon Phillips and you had like to have been
chosen into the Council, but, if you had, you should
have shared the same fate with Bowers.[2] May the
fate of Mordecai be his. There is nobody admitted
into town yet. I have made two or three attempts
to get somebody in, but cannot succeed; so have not
been able to do the business you left in charge with
me. I want very much to hear from you, how you
stood your journey, and in what state you find yourself
now. I felt very anxious about you; though I
endeavoured to be very insensible and heroic, yet
my heart felt like a heart of lead. The same night
you left me, I heard of Mr. Quincy's death, which,
at this time, was a most melancholy event; especially
as he wrote in minutes, which he left behind, that
he had matters of consequence intrusted with him,
which, for want of a confidant, must die with him.[3]
I went to see his distressed widow last Saturday, at
the Colonel's; and, in the afternoon, from an alarm
they had, she and her sister, with three others of the
family, took refuge with me and tarried all night.
She desired me to present her regards to you, and let

you know, she wished you every blessing,—should
always esteem you, as a sincere friend of her deceased
husband. Poor afflicted woman; my heart was
wounded for her. I must quit the subject, and entreat
you to write me by every opportunity.