University of Virginia Library

TO WILLIAM BRADFORD, JR.

My Worthy Friend,—Yours of the 25th of last
month came into my hands a few days past. It gave
singular pleasure, not only because of the kindness
expressed in it, but because I had reason to apprehend
the letter you received last from me had
miscarried, and I should fail in procuring the intelligence
I wanted before the trip I designed in the
spring.

I congratulate you on your heroic proceedings in
Philadelphia with regard to the tea.[1] I wish Boston
may conduct matters with as much discretion as they
seem to do with boldness. They seem to have great
trials and difficulties by reason of the obduracy and
ministerialism of their Governor. However, political
contests are necessary sometimes, as well as military,
to afford exercise and practice, and to instruct in the
art of defending liberty and property. I verily believe

the frequent assaults that have been made on
America (Boston especially) will in the end prove of
real advantage.

If the Church of England had been the established
and general religion in all the northern colonies as it
has been among us here, and uninterrupted tranquillity
had prevailed throughout the continent, it is clear to
me that slavery and subjection might and would have
been gradually insinuated among us. Union of religious
sentiments begets a surprising confidence, and
ecclesiastical establishments tend to great ignorance
and corruption; all of which facilitate the execution of
mischievous projects.

But away with politics! Let me address you as a
student and philosopher, and not as a patriot, now.
I am pleased that you are going to converse with the
Edwards and Henrys and Charleses, &c., &c., who
have swayed the British sceptre, though I believe you
will find some of them dirty and unprofitable companions,
unless you will glean instruction from their
follies, and fall more in love with liberty by beholding
such detestable pictures of tyranny and cruelty.

I was afraid you would not easily have loosened
your affection from the belles letters. A delicate
taste and warm imagination like yours must find it
hard to give up such refined and exquisite enjoyments
for the coarse and dry study of the law. It is like
leaving a pleasant flourishing field for a barren desert;
perhaps I should not say barren either, because the
law does bear fruit, but it is sour fruit, that must be
gathered and pressed and distilled before it can bring

pleasure or profit. I perceive I have made a very
awkward comparison; but I got the thought by the
end, and had gone too far to quit it before I perceived
that it was too much entangled in my brain to
run it through; and so you must forgive it. I myself
used to have too great a hankering after those amusing
studies. Poetry, wit, and criticism, romances,
plays, &c., captivated me much; but I began to discover
that they deserve but a small portion of a mortal's
time, and that something more substantial, more
durable, and more profitable, befits a riper age. It
would be exceedingly improper for a laboring man to
have nothing but flowers in his garden, or to determine
to eat nothing but sweet meats and confections.
Equally absurd would it be for a scholar and a man
of business to make up his whole library with books
of fancy, and feed his mind with nothing but such
luscious performances.

When you have an opportunity and write to Mr.
Brackenridge,[2] pray tell him I often think of him, and
long to see him, and am resolved to do so in the
spring. George Luckey was with me at Christmas,
and we talked so much about old affairs and old
friends, that I have a most insatiable desire to see you
all. Luckey will accompany me, and we are to set off
on the 10th of April, if no disaster befalls either of us.

I want again to breathe your free air. I expect it
will mend my constitution and confirm my principles.

I have indeed as good an atmosphere at home as the
climate will allow; but have nothing to brag of as to
the state and liberty of my country. Poverty and
luxury previal among all sorts; pride, ignorance, and
knavery among the priesthood, and vice and wickedness
among the laity. This is bad enough, but it is
not the worst I have to tell you. That diabolical,
hell-conceived principle of persecution rages among
some; and to their eternal infamy, the clergy can
furnish their quota of imps for such business. This
vexes me the worst of anything whatever. There
are at this time in the adjacent country not less than
five or six well-meaning men in close jail for publishing
their religious sentiments, which in the main are very
orthodox. I have neither patience to hear, talk, or
think of anything relative to this matter; for I have
squabbled and scolded, abused and ridiculed, so long
about it to little purpose, that I am without common
patience. So I must beg you to pity me, and pray
for liberty of conscience to all.

I expect to hear from you once more before I see
you, if time will admit; and want to know when the
synod meets, and where; what the exchange is at, and
as much about my friends and other matters as you
can [tell,] and think worthy of notice Till I see you,