After 44 hours constant journeying we arrived here about 7 o’Clock on Wednesday morning. My companion Mr: C— hearing that a party of his acquaintance had set off about an hour before for Fryburg a place 24 english miles distant from this—ordered fresh horses, invited me to join him & upon my pleading fatigue, was off himself alone in order as he observed to cause an agreeable surprise to his friends, whom he intended to dine with.— I smarted up a little—dined at Table d’hote at 1 o’Clock—walked till half past 3 & slept till 7 in the evening in an easy arm chair; then who should appear in my room but parson Kent, who had arrived about 5 o’Clock in the afternoon, 224 applied at the Hotel whence I write, for lodgings, but could not gain admittance— Indeed without Mr: C——s former acquaintance here, we should have experienced a similar denial; but as a favor we got into a three foot square apartment, where I passed the first night.

Messrs: Kent & Jarrett were, I suppose, (as Mr: C— says), agreeably surprised to find an acquaintance— They were hunted about from one tavern to another, nearly an hour before they found lodgings & at last put up at a third rate Inn— You will understand by this detail that the town is overflowing with strangers, but I know not particularly the reason of it.— Yesterday we sauntered about most of the day; saw the public buildings walks &ca: but as yet, have made no excursions. Mr: C— returned late last night & to day we begin the rounds.1

Shall I, by way of temptation, attempt to describe to you the pleasure and convenience of the journey hither— The stately forests—florishing villages—highly cultivated fields—smiling valleys—lofty & majestic mountains, which alternately meet the eye & charm the senses. Or by silence tantalize you the more? I have heard of subjects so delicate & pathetic, that silence upon them was considered the height of eloquence— Imagine then I pray you, that this is one of those. Suffice it to say, that my poor horse had well nigh experienced a mournful fate—famine stared him in the face, while hunger & fatigue devoured him—2 I did think that oats at least might be had upon the road—but no—nothing, unless some chopp’d straw mixed with Rye—much of which would surely have killed him. I groaned in spirit for the poor beast, and repented many an hour, that I had led him into such a predicament. The heat of the weather obliged me to keep the carriage and of course the horse must be led—in this way we brought him on until within 6 german miles of this place; that is, 84 miles english without halting at once more than two hours. He would have gone further, but it would have been cruel indeed to have forced him, considering his stingy fare—so I made a bargain for sending him on, with the Post Master at Elsterwerder and left him to recruit. He came in yesterday morning quite fresh and hearty— But as a great secret, I will tell you, that I wish he were again safe in Berlin. To be my own horseler on the road, when tired, sleepy and almost worn out, was, in addition to the surliness of those I had to do with, a patience-trier, which I had not anticipated.

Messieurs K & J— were disappointed & grieved when I told them the little probable chance there was of seeing you here. They had 225 hoped that for the benefit of your health, the jaunt would have been put in execution. As to J——tt he says—I love Mrs: A— dearly—she puts me so much in mind of an old sweetheart. He bids me make his best respects to you & husband— To the family at Charlottg. we all beg to be remembered. In particular, you know where I should wish to be recalled.3

The post goes but twice a week hence to Berlin—Tuesday’s & Saturday’s— If any letters should come for me; please to have them sent on to my address at the Hotel de Baviere, whence with best love to your husband I subscribe myself / your brother

Whenever I have set myself down to write to my dear Sisters, I have found myself so drowned in Grief, as to prevent my proceeding any further, than to make the attempt— To see my Child laid in the dust, was an affliction I had not prepared myself for; & I find the realities, the solemnities, the trial greater than I can bear, or support as I ought— I had too fondly hoped for her assistance now, & in my declining years, that she would full of gratitude, & filial affection smoothed the pillow of age—but heaven sees fit to deprive me of so rich a Blessing—for these several months I have despaird of her recovery— it is true she is yet alive, but in all probability she cannot 226 continue many days— the Drs. say her blood is all destroyed. She looks as if she had not many spoonfulls left— It is with the greatest reluctance that she has taken any food, only from a sense of duty since the first of March, she has lost all appetite & seems tired of everything— I thank you for your inquiries of Dr Rush, concerning her Case but I really believe, that after the first three weeks of her illness, all advice would have come too late— But under the care of the best Phisicians, when our Glass is run, our sun must set. O! may we rise gloriously, in regions of bliss & immortality, & those virtues which have but just budded here, there bloom with unfading lustre—1

I am grieved to hear you are so unwell, I hope the sweet air of peacefield will prove a restorative—to your whole family. I hope Cousin Louisa will feel its happy effects—

I hope Cousin William, & John received no injury from their walk last friday, it was very dificult geting a Chaise,— Mr Peabody would have taken them, but he had Cousin Betsy, & all their bundles & could not—& the little creatures were so elated, that distance was nothing, but the heat increased so, that I feared they would be sick, & spoil the happy meeting with their Mamma, & Sister, which they had so sweetly anticipated— Betsy Quincy followed them in her mind, & said she could see the dear good Boys hug their long absent Mamma— She was very fond of the Children, & I saw it was very hard for her to part with them—but feelings, she said must always be subservient to duty—& she was happy that her Brother had the opportunity of going into some business, she wished nothing more ardently, than that he might be good, & useful in life—& felt very grateful to the President for employing him— may he be wise— & consider properly the advantages he is now under your auspices, blessed with— Pray my Sister exhort, reprove, & encourage as your wisdom, & maternal feelings may direct— I am ashamed to think how poorly he is fixed for a member of your family— his Cousin Betsys went to Haverhill to get some Callico for a gown, for him, he said he could not find any, I thought it was a whim in him—but they were not more fortunate, so he is gone without one— A suit of new cloaths I intended to have had made up before he went from me, but alas I could not go to Haverhill— Cousin Betsy Smith told me she would assist him in the purchase of anything he wanted, but the Sickness is so great in Boston, that I fear all communication will be cut off, for a time at least— If it would not be giving you too much trouble, I wish you would give orders to have 5 or 6 pair of 227 Stockings wove for him, by your Quincy Stocking weaver, they are much stronger than the cotton ones you get from Shops—& will be much better, if they are made for him something large— whatever is necessary for him, if you will be so good as to tell him, I will thank you, for you know much better than William or me—you will please to make charge of what he has— He has not yet been used to take care for himself, & I expect will made sad steering; I beg you to caution him. A good heart will not always save persons from being dashed upon the rocks— If you have some peices of his coat, that he can bring to me it shall be mended— I had not any thing that would do to put into the elbow, nor any lining of the coulour— If he gets stockings I will run the heels, if he will bring them—

I am very sorry Cousin Betsy went home, her company, & assistance I stood in need of, & I am convinced she had better staid with us—but her Sister thought she had better return, & see her Sister Otis—whom she had not seen for two years, or I believe I could perswaded her to have tarried longer, but I hear they have left the Town— I sincerely wish she would come back with William, if he could be spared long enough, perhaps Saturday better than any other day— Betsy Q & Abby begs there duty may be presented to the president & you— I am in great haste your affectionate Sister