My Dearest Friend

Yesterday We had snow of two or three Inches deep only. I dined with Mrs. Powell who expresses still her usual high regard for you. I have written and sent Packetts to our sons by Mr. Hall who sailed yesterday sails to day. I send you Randolph's Book. Mrs. Powell calls it Randolphs Crimination not Vindication. It is a very weak thing. He has disclosed Secrets very dishonorably without any proper Motive. It is a Piece of Revenge against the President but for what Injury or Offence I cannot discover. If he had made out that the P. had prejudged his Case and that he ought not to have prejudged his Case what follows from there? His Innocence? I think not. Fauchets dispatch is a silly think. His Logick is fetter for a Comedian than a Statesman. He charges all America with being Stockjobbers &c. and [?] it all to Mr. Hamiltons systems. Strange nonsense. The affair is all darkness.