|My Dearest Friend||Philadelphia March 15, 1797|
The Weather is very ugly—and I have a cold—and no News arrives with any Authenticity—so that there is a kind of dull suspense—The People however are in deep meditation. and you may conjecture that my Thoughts are not idle.
I wish Brislers Wife were here.—I fear I must send him home to fetch her—and what I shall do without him is a difficult Question.—
Mr Maund writes me that he has sent a Barrell of seed Oats to Boston—I am sorry for it—But if they arrive give a Bushell to my Brother—a Bushell to Josiah Bass. a Bushell to Captn Beal and a Bushell to Mr Black upon condition that they will sow them—sow a Bushell for Us or French—or give our Bushell to Unkle Quincy or Dr Tufts. Mr Otis comes in—I am