I have just retird to my Chamber, but an impulce seazes me to write you a few lines
before I close my Eye's. Here I often come and sit myself down alone to think of my
absent Friend, to ruminate over past scenes, to read over Letters, journals &c.
Tis a melancholy kind of pleasure I find in this amusement, whilst the weighty cares
of state scarcly leave room for a tender recollection or sentiment to steal into the
Bosome of my Friend.
In my last I expressd some fears least the Enemy should soon invade us here. My apprehensions
are in a great measure abated by late accounts received from the General.
We have a very fine Season here, rather cold for a fortnight, but nothing like a drought.
You would smile to see what a Farmer our Brother C
[ranc]h makes, his whole attention is as much engaged in it, as it ever was in Spermacity
Works, Watch Work, or Prophesies. You must know he has purchased, (in spight of the
C
[olone]ls Threats) that Farm he talkd of.
1 He gave a large price for it tis True, but tis a neat, profitable place, 300 sterling,
but money is lookd upon of very little value, and you can scarcly purchase any article
now but by Barter. You shall have wool for flax or flax for wool, you shall have veal,
Beaf or pork for salt, for sugar, for Rum, &c. but mony we will not take, is the daily
language. I will work for you for Corn, for flax
{ 270 } or wool, but if I work for money you must give a cart load of it be sure.
What can be done, and which way shall we help ourselves? Every article and necessary
of life is rising daily. Gold dear Gold would soon lessen the Evils. I was offerd
an article the other day for two dollors in silver for which they askd me six in paper.
I have no more to purchase with than if every dollor was a silver one.
2 Every paper dollor cost a silver one, why then cannot it be eaquelly valuable? You
will refer me to Lord Kames I know, who solves the matter. I hope in favour you will
not Emit any more paper, till what we have at least becomes more valuable.
Nothing remarkable has occurd since I wrote you last. You do not in your last Letters
mention how you do—I will hope better. I want a companion a Nights, many of them are
wakefull and Lonesome, and “tierd Natures sweet restorer, Balmy Sleep,”
3 flies me. How hard it is to reconcile myself to six months longer absence! Do you
feel it urksome? Do you sigh for Home? And would you willingly share with me what
I have to pass through? Perhaps before this reaches you and meets with a Return,——I
wish the day passt, yet dread its arrival.—Adieu most sincerely most affectionately
Yours.