 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO JOHN ADAMS.
The day,—perhaps, the decisive day,—is come, on
which the fate of America depends. My bursting
heart must find vent at my pen. I have just heard,
that our dear friend, Dr. Warren, is no more, but
fell gloriously fighting for his country; saying, better
to die honorably in the field, than ignominiously
hang upon the gallows. Great is our loss. He has
distinguished himself in every engagement, by his
courage and fortitude, by animating the soldiers, and
account of these dreadful, but I hope glorious days
will be transmitted you, no doubt, in the exactest
manner.
"The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to
the strong; but the God of Israel is he, that giveth
strength and power unto his people. Trust in him
at all times, ye people, pour out your hearts before
him; God is a refuge for us." Charlestown is laid
in ashes. The battle began upon our intrenchments
upon Bunker's Hill, Saturday morning about three
o'clock, and has not ceased yet, and it is now three
o'clock Sabbath afternoon.
It is expected they will come out over the Neck
to-night, and a dreadful battle must ensue. Almighty
God, cover the heads of our countrymen, and be a
shield to our dear friends! How many have fallen,
we know not. The constant roar of the cannon is
so distressing, that we cannot cat, drink, or sleep.
May we be supported and sustained in the dreadful
conflict. I shall tarry here till it is thought unsafe
by my friends, and then I have secured myself a
retreat at your brother's, who has kindly offered me
part of his house. I cannot compose myself to write
any further at present. I will add more as I hear
further.
I have been so much agitated, that I have not
been able to write since Sabbath day. When I say,
that ten thousand reports are passing, vague and uncertain
am not able to give you any authentic account of
last Saturday, but you will not be destitute of intelligence.
Colonel Palmer has just sent me word, that
he has an opportunity of conveyance. Incorrect as
this scrawl will be, it shall go. I ardently pray, that
you may be supported through the arduous task you
have before you. I wish I could contradict the report
of the Doctor's death; but it is a lamentable
truth, and the tears of multitudes pay tribute to his
memory; those favorite lines of Collins continually
sound in my ears;
"How sleep the brave," &c.[1]
I must close, as the Deacon waits. I have not
pretended to be particular with regard to what I
have heard, because I know you will collect better
intelligence. The spirits of the people are very
good; the loss of Charlestown affects them no more
than a drop of the bucket. I am, most sincerely,
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |