I am almost affraid you do not love me so well as I hoped you did— If you had have known how much you dissappointed me, & my Friends here, in not making us a visit, your benevolence would have induced my Brother, & you, to have surmountd every Obstacle—

If I had not felt too great a tenderness for the Parent, I would have told you that your Son was here very Sick, & had alarming Complaints— And indeed I could have told you so with truth— But I did not want to decoy you here in this way, & make you travel the road with an akeing heart, I know too well the distress of it—

I suppose Mr Adams is with you before this time— He would go to Newbury a Tuesday contrary to my advice—& I have been very uneasy about him ever since— I think it is highly necessary for him to be exceeding careful as to Diet, Exercise, &cc— As to Study that must certainly be laid aside for the present— We wished him to have tarried longer here, He knows that I felt a pleasure in attending upon One, who I thought so worthy of our Love, & esteem— I hope he is with you now & much better— My Love to him I will not say to him that I hope Morpheus nightly sheds his Poppies o'er his head, but in a more Christian stile, pray that the good Shepherd of Isreal, who himself never slumbers nor sleeps, would encircle him in the arms of his Love, & remove every disorder,—that his Blood may flow on in a regular & healthful Course, & he perfectly restored—that the rose may again return to his Cheek, & the glow of health smile & brighten in his Face—

I hope to see you next week, if our chaise wheels are done, & nothing happens we expect to come— Mr Allen has been sick with weak Eyes ever since he returned— They were here a Lecture day this week, & gave some account of the dreadful trial she had with her child—1 I believe she does not want to go another Journey with one—

Please to give my love to my Sister Cranch & Cousins— cousin Betsy Smith begs to be remembered by her Aunts, as well my Son & Daughter.

Ever, & unalterably your affectionate sister

I wrote you a hasty letter from New-York, just to acknowledge the receipt of yours, No. 5, the week before last;1 since which I have not heard from you, nor have I had an opportunity to write.

* * * * * * *

Pennsylvania has already appointed her Senators, who are Mr. Morris and a Mr. McLain.2 Poor —— is, then, disappointed; for he went home to make interest for himself, as it was said.

There are two gentlemen,—the one I mentioned in a former letter from the southward, and the other from your State, who is now in Congress,—who are looking for foreign appointments.3 We are all content that they should receive what they desire, for no one who has been abroad could, I think, wish to go again, knowing how matters must be situated.

Professions are much easier made than fulfilled, especially in these days when barter is the fashion. The maxim of the present time is, “if you can be of service to me in promoting my views, I will give you my assistance in yours.” Fear oftener actuates to friendly offices, than love. But I am not surprised at these things, for I am vain enough to think I can see as far into persons' characters, sentiments, and the motives which direct their conduct, as most ladies of my age and experience.

I may, sometimes from delicacy, at others from pride, suppress my opinions; but I flatter myself that in many cases I think right.

My father's idea of returning to the bar, (unless he is placed, as he ought to be, in a situation agreeable to himself,) is what I should expect from him, knowing his sentiments as I do; and unless the idea militates with his feelings, I can see no more respectable situation in private life, and no one so independent either in public or 303 private, as he would establish himself in; for I presume the smaller parts of the practice would be wholly excluded by him, and left to young practitioners. It is a profession which I do venerate, and hope one day to see all my brothers, if it is their choice, to pursue this profession, making respectable figures in it. And, if it is not looking too far forward, I would hope that my son might yet become a pupil of his grandfather's. Ever since I have thought at all upon the subject, it has been my opinion that the study of law tends more to mature the judgment, and establish the right character of the man, (provided there are proper principles for the foundation,) than any other profession. There are men without principles in every profession. I do not think that the ill conduct of individuals ought to lessen the respectability of the profession they have made their study, although it may in the minds of some persons have this tendency.

The recent instance of perfidy and unheard of atrocity, which you mention in your letter, and which has made much talk this way, ought to brand with infamy the name and character of the author. Yet it seems hard that innocent persons, if there are any such connected with him, should suffer in their characters and reputations, by their affinity to this fiend of wickedness. This family seems devoted to misfortune of every kind, but I think that this instance must be the criterion of them.

My friends must have thought me very inattentive to them, if they have not yet received my letters. I have answered very punctually almost every letter I have received. It is a great amusement to me, writing to my friends at this distance. I do not find that time lessens the painfulness of a separation from our friends; it is only alleviated by this intercourse by letters. You have been very good in writing me, and yet when I do not get a letter for several weeks, I begin to grow impatient. You must not omit any opportunity of affording me this source of satisfaction.

I am much obliged by your request to have my dear boy with you this winter; but this is a separation I cannot think of. He is a great amusement to me, and becomes daily more engaging.

Your affectionate daughter,