University of Virginia Library

TO JOHN ADAMS.

I sat down to write to you on Monday, but really
could not compose myself sufficiently; the anxiety I

suffered from not hearing one syllable from you for
more than five weeks, and the new distress arising
from the arrival of recruits, agitated me more than
I have been since the never-to-be-forgotten 14th of
April.[1] I have been much revived by receiving two
letters from you last night; one by the servant of
your friend, and the other by the gentleman you
mention, though they both went to Cambridge, and
I have not seen them. I hope to send this, as a returni
to you.

I feared much for your health, when you went
away. I must entreat you to be as careful as you
can consistently with the duty you owe your country.
That consideration, alone, prevailed with me to consent
to your departure, in a time so perilous and
so hazardous to your family, and with a body so
infirm as to require the tenderest care and nursing.
I wish you may be supported and divinely assisted
in this most important crisis, when the fate of empires
depends upon your wisdom and conduct. I
greatly rejoice to hear of your union and determination
to stand by us.

We cannot but consider the great distance you are
from us as a very great misfortune, when our critical
situation renders it necessary to hear from you
every week, and will be more and more so, as difficulties
arise. We now expect our seacoast ravaged;
perhaps the very next letter I write will inform
you, that I am driven away from our yet quiet cottage.

Necessity will oblige Gage to take some desperate
steps. We are told for truth, that he is now
eight thousand strong. We live in continual expectation
of alarms. Courage, I know we have in
abundance,—conduct, I hope we shall not want;
but powder,—where shall we get a sufficient supply?
I wish we may not fail there. Every town is
filled with the distressed inhabitants of Boston. Our
house among others is deserted, and by this time,
like enough, made use of as a barrack. Mr. Bowdoin
and his lady are at present in the house of Mrs.
Borland, and are going to Middleborough, to the
house of Judge Oliver. He, poor gentleman, is so
low, that I apprehend he is hastening to a house not
made with hands; he looks like a mere skeleton,
speaks faint and low, is racked with a violent cough,
and, I think, far advanced in a consumption. I went
to see him last Saturday. He is very inquisitive of
every person with regard to the times; begged I
would let him know of the first intelligence I had
from you; is very unable to converse by reason of
his cough. He rides every pleasant day, and has
been kind enough to call at the door (though unable
to get out) several times. He says the very name
of Hutchinson distresses him. Speaking of him, the
other day, he broke out,—"Religious rascal! how
I abhor his name."

Pray be as particular as possible when you write.
Everybody wants to hear and to know what is doing,
and what may be communicated do not fail to
inform me of. AH our friends desire to be kindly

remembered to you. Gage's proclamation you
will receive by this conveyance. All the records of
time cannot produce a blacker page. Satan, when
driven from the regions of bliss, exhibited not more
malice. Surely the father of lies is superseded.
Yet we think it the best proclamation he could have
issued.

I shall, whenever I can, receive and entertain, in
the best manner I am capable, the gentlemen who
have so generously proffered their services in our
army. Government is wanted in the army and elsewhere.
We see the want of it more from so large
a body being together, than when each individual
was employed in his own domestic circle. My best
regards attend every man you esteem. You will
make my compliments to Mr. Mifflin and lady. I do
not now wonder at the regard the ladies express for
a soldier. Every man who wears a cockade appears
of double the importance he used to do, and I feel
a respect for the lowest subaltern in the army. You
tell me you know not when you shall see me. I
never trust myself long with the terrors which sometimes
intrude themselves upon me.
I hope we shall see each other again, and rejoice
together in happier days; the little ones are well,
and send duty to papa. Don't fail of letting me
hear from you by every opportunity. Every line is
like a precious relic of the saints.

I have a request to make of you; something like
the barrel of sand, I suppose you will think it, but
really of much more importance to me. It is, that

you would send out Mr. Bass,[2] and purchase me a
bundle of pins, and put them in your trunk for me.
The cry for pins is so great, that what I used to buy
for seven shillings and sixpence, are now twenty
shillings, and not to be had for that. A bundle contains
six thousand, for which I used to give a dollar;
but if you can procure them for fifty shillings, or
three pounds,[3] pray let me have them.

I am, with the tenderest regard,