but such as I have give I unto thee,

affectionate regard of your

which is the

A. S.

TO JOHN ADAMS.

Weymouth, Sunday Evening, 14 September, 1767.

MY DEAREST FRIEND,

THE Doctor talks of setting out to-morrow for New Braintree. I did not know but that he might chance to see you in his way there. I know from the tender affection you bear me and our little ones, that you will rejoice to hear that we are well. Our son is much better than when you left home, and our daughter rocks him to sleep with the song of "Come, papa, come home to brother Johnny." Sunday seems a more lonely day to me than any other when you are absent; for, though I may be compared to those climates which are deprived of the sun half the year, yet upon a Sunday you commonly afforded us your benign influence. I am now at Weymouth, my father brought me here last night; to-morrow I return home, where I hope soon to receive the dearest of friends, and the tenderest of husbands, with that unabated affection which has for years past, and will whilst the vital spark lasts, burn in the bosom of your affectionate

A. ADAMS.

TO JOHN ADAMS.

Braintree, 19 August, 1774.

THE great distance between us makes the time ap

pear very long to me.

It seems already a month since you left me. The great anxiety I feel for my country, for you, and for our family, renders the day tedious and the night unpleasant. The rocks and quicksands appear upon every side. What course you can or will take is all wrapped in the bosom of futurity. Uncertainty and expectation leave the mind great scope. Did ever any kingdom or state regain its liberty when once it was invaded, without bloodshed? I cannot think of it without horror. Yet we are told, that all the misfortunes of Sparta were occasioned by their too great solicitude for present tranquillity, and, from an excessive love of peace, they neglected the means of making it sure and lasting. They ought to have reflected, says Polybius, that, as there is nothing more desirable or advantageous than peace, when founded in justice and honor, so there is nothing more shameful, and at the same time more pernicious, when attained by bad measures, and purchased at the price of liberty." I have received a most charming letter from our friend Mrs. Warren.' She desires me to tell you,

66

1 Mrs. Mercy Warren, the wife of General James Warren, of Plymouth, and the sister of James Otis.

that her best wishes attend you through your journey, both as a friend and a patriot, hopes you will have no uncommon difficulties to surmount, or hostile movements to impede you, but, if the Locrians should interrupt you, she hopes that you will beware, that no future annals may say you chose an ambitious Philip for your leader, who subverted the noble order of the American Amphictyons, and built up a monarchy on the ruins of the happy institution.

I have taken a very great fondness for reading

Rollin's Ancient History since you left me. I am

determined to go through with it, if possible, in these my days of solitude. I find great pleasure and entertainment from it, and I have persuaded Johnny to read me a page or two every day, and hope he will, from his desire to oblige me, entertain a fondness for it. We have had a charming rain, which lasted twelve hours, and has greatly revived the dying fruits of the earth.

I want much to hear from you. I long impatiently to have you upon the stage of action. The first of September, or the month of September, perhaps, may be of as much importance to Great Britain, as the Ides of March were to Cæsar. I wish you every public, as well as private blessing, and that wisdom which is profitable both for instruction and edification, to conduct you in this difficult day. The little flock remember papa, and kindly wish to see him; so does your most affectionate

ABIGAIL ADAMS.

TO JOHN ADAMS.

Braintree, 2 September, 1774.

I AM very impatient to receive a letter from you, You indulged me so much in that way in your last absence, that I now think I have a right to hear as often from you, as you have leisure and opportunity to write. I hear that Mr. Adams' wrote to his son, and the Speaker1 to his lady; but perhaps you did not know of the opportunity. I suppose you have before this time received two letters from me, and will write me by the same conveyance. I judge you reached Philadelphia last Saturday night. I cannot but felicitate you upon your absence a little while from this scene of perturbation, anxiety, and distress. I own I feel not a little agitated with the accounts I have this day received from town; great commotions have arisen in consequence of a discovery of a traitorous plot of Colonel Brattle's,- his advice to Gage, to break every commissioned officer, and to seize the province's and town's stock of gunpowder. This has so enraged and exasperated the people, that there is great apprehension of an immediate rupture. They have been all in flames ever since the new-fangled counsellors have taken their oaths. The importance, of which they consider the meet

1 Mr. Samuel Adams. Mr. Cushing had been the Speaker of the House of Representatives in Massachusetts until chosen a delegate to the Congress.

ing of the Congress, and the result thereof to the community, withholds the arm of vengeance already lifted, which would most certainly fall with accumulated wrath upon Brattle, were it possible to come at him; but no sooner did he discover that his treachery had taken air, than he fled, not only to Boston, but into the camp, for safety. You will, by Mr. Tudor, no doubt have a much more accurate account than I am able to give you; but one thing I can inform you of, which perhaps you may not have heard, namely, Mr. Vinton, our Sheriff, it seems, received one of those twenty warrants,' which were issued by Messrs. Goldthwait and Price, which has cost them such bitter repentance and humble acknowledgments, and which has revealed the great secret of their attachment to the liberties of their country, and their veneration and regard for the good will of their countrymen. See their address to Hutchinson and Gage. This warrant, which was for Stoughton,2 Vinton carried and delivered to a constable there; but, before he had got six miles, he was overtaken by sixty men on horseback, who surrounded him, and told him, unless he returned with them and demanded back that warrant and committed it to the flames before their faces, he must take the conse

1 These were warrants issued by the clerks of the court by which the juries were summoned.

2 The name of the town is not clear. The history of the events alluded to in this letter, may be found more at large in Gordon's "History of the American War," Vol. I. pp. 386, 387.