|My Dearest Friend||Philadelphia 21 Decr 1795|
Yesterday We had a 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
sailed yesterday sails to day. I send you Randolphs Book—Mrs Powell calls it Randolphs Crimination not Vindication. It
is a very weak thing—He has disclosed Secrets very dishonourably 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 thence? His Innocence? I think not.
Fauchets dispatch is a silly think. His Logik is fetter for a Comedian than a Statesman.
He charges all America with being Stockjobbes &c and imputes it all to Mr
Hamiltons systems. strange nonsense.
The affair is all darkness.