University of Virginia Library

TO JOHN ADAMS.

DEAREST FRIEND,

Five weeks have passed and not one line have I received.
I would rather give a dollar for a letter by
the post, though the consequence should be, that I
ate but one meal a day these three weeks to come.
Every one I see is inquiring after you.—When did
I hear?—All my intelligence is collected from the
newspaper, and I can only reply that I saw by that,
you arrived such a day. I know your fondness for
writing, and your inclination to let me hear from you
by the first safe conveyance, which makes me suspect
that some letter or other has miscarried,—but
I hope, now you have arrived at Philadelphia, you
will find means to convey me some intelligence.
We are all well here. I think I enjoy better health
than I have done these two years. I have not been
to town since I parted with you there. The Governor
is making all kinds of warlike preparations,
such as mounting cannon upon Beacon Hill, digging
intrenchments upon the Neck, placing cannon there,
encamping a regiment there, throwing up breastworks,
&c. The people are much alarmed, and the


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selectmen have waited upon him in consequence of
it. The County Congress have also sent a committee;
all which proceedings you will have a more
particular account of, than I am able to give you,
from the public papers. But, as to the movements
of this town, perhaps you may not hear them from
any other person.

In consequence of the powder being taken from
Charlestown, a general alarm spread through many
towns and was caught pretty soon here. The report
took here on Friday, and on Sunday a soldier was seen
lurking about the Common, supposed to be a spy,
but most likely a deserter. However, intelligence
of it was communicated to the other parishes, and
about eight o'clock, Sunday evening, there passed
by here about two hundred men, preceded by a
horsecart, and marched down to the powder house,
from whence they took the powder, and carried it
into the other parish and there secreted it. I opened
the window upon their return. They passed without
any noise, not a word among them till they came
against this house, when some of them perceiving
me, asked me if I wanted any powder. I replied,
No, since it was in so good hands.—The reason
they gave for taking it was, that we had so many
Tories here, they dared not trust us with it; they had
taken Vinton in their train, and upon their return
they stopped between Cleverly's and Etter's and
called upon him to deliver two warrants.[1] Upon his


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producing them, they put it to vote whether they
should burn them, and it passed in the affirmative.
They then made a circle and burnt them. They
then called a vote whether they should huzza, but, it
being Sunday evening, it passed in the negative.
They called upon Vinton to swear, that he would
never be instrumental in carrying into execution any
of these new acts. They were not satisfied with his
answers; however, they let him rest. A few days
afterwards, upon his making some foolish speeches,
they assembled to the amount of two or three hundred,
and swore vengeance upon him unless he took a solemn
oath. Accordingly, they chose a committee and sent
it with him to Major Miller's to see that he complied;
and they waited his return, which proving satisfactory,
they dispersed. This town appears as high as
you can well imagine, and, if necessary, would soon
be in arms. Not a Tory but hides his head. The
Church parson thought they were coming after him,
and ran up garret; they say another jumped out of
his window and hid among the corn, whilst a third
crept under his board fence and told his beads.

 
[1]

For summoning juries.

I dined to-day at Colonel Quincy's. They were
so kind as to send me and Abby and Betsey an invitation
to spend the day with them; and, as I had not
been to see them since I removed to Braintree, I accepted
the invitation. After I got there came Mr.
Samuel Quincy's wife and Mr. Sumner, Mr. Josiah


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and wife.[2] A little clashing of parties, you may be
sure. Mr. Sam's wife said, she thought it high time
for her husband to turn about; he had not done half
so cleverly since he left her advice; said they both
greatly admired the most excellent speech of the
Bishop of St. Asaph, which I suppose you have seen.
It meets, and most certainly merits, the greatest encomiums.

Upon my return at night, Mr. Thaxter met me
at the door with your letter, dated at Princeton,
New Jersey. It really gave me such a flow of spirits,
that I was not composed enough to sleep until
one o'clock. You make no mention of one I wrote
you previous to that you received by Mr. Breck, and
sent by Mr. Cunningham. I am rejoiced to hear you
are well. I want to know many more particulars
than you write me, and hope soon to hear from you
again. I dare not trust myself with the thought how
long you may perhaps be absent. I only count the
weeks already past and they amount to five. I am
not so lonely as I should have been without my two
neighbours; we make a table-full at meal times. All
the rest of their time they spend in the office. Never
were two persons who gave a family less trouble
than they do. It is at last determined, that Mr.
Rice keep the school here. Indeed, he has kept
ever since he has been here, but not with any expectation
that he should be continued;—but the people,
finding no small difference between him and his


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predecessor, chose he should be continued. I have
not sent Johnny.[3] He goes very steadily to Mr.
Thaxter, who I believe takes very good care of him;
and, as they seem to have a liking to each other,
I believe it will be best to continue him with him.
However, when you return, we can consult what
will be best. I am certain that, if he does not get so
much good, he gets less harm; and I have always
thought it of very great importance, that children
should, in the early part of life, be unaccustomed to
such examples as would tend to corrupt the purity of
their words and actions, that they may chill with
horror at the sound of an oath, and blush with indignation
at an obscene expression. These first principles,
which grow with their growth, and strengthen
with their strength, neither time nor custom can totally
eradicate. You will perhaps be tired. No.—
Let it serve by way of relaxation from the more important
concerns of the day, and be such an amusement,
as your little hermitage used to afford you
here. You have before you, to express myself in
the words of the Bishop, the greatest national concerns
that ever came before any people; and, if the
prayers and petitions ascend unto Heaven, which
are daily offered for you, wisdom will flow down as
a stream, and righteousness as the mighty waters,
and your deliberations will make glad the cities of
our God.
I was very sorry I did not know of Mr. Cary's

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going; it would have been so good an opportunity to
have sent this, as I lament the loss of. You have
heard, no doubt, of the people's preventing the court
from sitting in various counties; and last week, in
Taunton, Angier urged the court's opening, and calling
out the actions, but could not effect it. I saw a
letter from Miss Eunice, wherein she gives an account
of it, and says there were two thousand men
assembled round the court-house, and, by a committee
of nine, presented a petition requesting that they
would not sit, and with the utmost order waited two
hours for their answer, when they dispersed.

You will burn all these letters, lest they should
fall from your pocket, and thus expose your most
affectionate friend,

Abigail Adams.
 
[2]

It is well known, that these two brothers took opposite
sides in the struggle that ensued.

[3]

Her son, John Quincy Adams.