Your very welcome Letter of the 9th. inst1 I have recieved, at the Moment I was contemplating sending to you our 3d Vol. of Agricultural Memoirs,2 as a small Token of Remembrance. I shall, by the first Opportunity, have it conveyed to New York, with a Request that it may be forwarded. A few of us endeavour to keep this Subject alive, amidst the Din of Arms; which are ever hostile to the Arts of Peace, & their attendant Blessings. Too much of this Effort falls on me—but yet some Relief from surrounding Glooms is found, in Attention to Topicks which abstract the Mind from the Vices & Follies, plentifully scattered through our devoted Country. Mortification under what we are, is, at least, for the Moment, suspended; while we contemplate on what we have been. It may return with double Force, when we consider what we might have been. But it seems that History affords ample Proofs— & our own as much as any other— that “this World was made for Cæsar.” The Enjoyment of Liberty is fugacious—but Despotism—under a Variety of Shapes— is permanent.— There is a Tendency to it in all human ^political^ Institutions; & the People of every Country have, from time immemorial, forged their own Chains. Our “free & enlightened” Citizens are now very busy at the Anvil—but whether their Work will now be completed, is not for us to decide. Heaven may send us Chastisement, without Ruin;—& possibly the former may save us—for a time. Delusion is the order of the Day. Gordon, in one of his Discourses on Tacitus, endeavours to prove that the People, when decieved by Deluders, are blind & cruel; yet mean well. Too many of our People are blind— yet few cruel— as to their meaning well— they take a lamentable Mode of shewing it.

Your Letter contains an Epitome of my Thoughts on our political Situation. Had I written a Book—& I have no Adversary who would think it worth his while to wish that I had— I could not express myself more clearly on the Subject. At our Age we are Lookers on—& see the Game better than those who play it. The Insight which calm Observation & Experience afford, is, however, of no Use to those who deem themselves too wise to need Instruction. We must wait Events like Passengers in a Bark buffetted by Storms; & mismanaged by unskilful Pilots & raw Mariners. I hope our Vessel is yet staunch; & that she will get into Port— whatever untoward Appearances may predict. It is indeed distressing, when Hope alone is our Comforter. But Heaven sends this Balm, when there is no other in Gilead. I wish that, from any Information I have, I could give you a more substantial Comforter. But alas! all I know is far from furnishing Light or Brilliancy to the threatning & dusky Cloud which overhangs our Hemisphere. Our President is not the Man we once supposed him. He is the mere Dalai-Lama of a Set of Managers, who, like the Priests of that pretended Deity, carry on a ruinous Delusion over an infatuated Multitude of blind Worshipers. Party Antipathies may, possibly, paint in too sombre Colours, but the Stories I hear on this subject, are distressing & disgusting— To me particularly, who, in early times, had a sincere personal Friendship for him. He would then take some strange Flights— one of them was his joining in the Philippic on you, for not consulting the French Minister (Vergennes) when the Interest of your Country forbad the Step. But in general I thought & acted with him.— In this Matter—far otherwise—nor have I in his modern Conduct been in Union with his political Sentiments, on any important Subject—tho’ yet I entertain no personal Enmity. His Bias has ^been^ lamentably wrong for many Years—&, from all Accounts, his present Propensities afford little Comfort to his declining Years. I believe his Mind & Body are enfeebled when Vigour, & Strength are, of all other Times, now the most required in him who is placed at the Helm, on our perilous Voyage. If those who work the Ship were good & true, our Prospect would be brighter. But they are as much divided & embittered, as it regards one another, as their Opponents are hostile to them. I believe they would willingly measure back their Steps; but how to do it, & keep their Influence— hoc Opus— From all I can gather— it seems the Canada Quixotism is yet to be continued;— & the Mastery of the Lakes secured. Madmen act & speak wisely— if you allow their Principles. Washington seems a great Mad House—& the Occupants of its Cells have no lucid Intervals. One would imagine they had had a quant. suff.3 of Blisters & Bleeding— But Madmen never feel. I told Dallas4 when he left his Business to take upon him the irretrievable affairs of an exhausted Treasury, that he was about becoming one of the Maniacs—but he ^then^ disregarded what I said, & now reminds me of my Prediction. I could only repeat what, in Courts, is the Prayer for Characters in Jeopardy— “God send you a good Deliverance”— And indeed, for both the innocent & the guilty, this suits us all. With all this— I do not despair— The Chapter of Accidents has something in Store, & thro’ much suffering— we may yet find a bright Page in it. I have a strong Impression that we shall, eer long, have Peace— but the why & the wherefore I cannot tell you— Save that there seems Nothing really substantial enough in the ^litigated^ Affairs of the two Nations to continue the Business of Throat-Cutting; & I fancy our Enemy is tired of the Employment, after following the Trade so long. Her Affairs require Repose; & it does not appear that she will reap the Harvest she expected from European Tranquillity. Jealousies of her maritime Predominance are not allayed—tho’ they may be temporarily skin’d over. This cherishes Hope, tho’ it may not produce Conviction.

I have been much pleased with the Issue of the New England Convention. The Principles established by that Assembly will, one Day, have Influence; tho’ now the blind cannot see them—& those who are clear sighted are not able to effectuate their Objects— or successfully oppose the Evils, depicted in a masterly Manner.

I am gratified with the Account of your travelling on towards the Goal we all must arrive at, with a Mind tranquil, & a Body without Pain. Your Companions—Books & Recollections—are consolatory & essential—when all others have lost their Relish. I thank you for your kind Inquiries after my Health. I have but lately recovered from a most unfortunate Accident— having been thrown on the Stones of our Turnpike from my Horse—who took Fright & ran away with me. I was much bruised; & my Escape, with Life, was miraculous. Yet I am now perfectly well. The only bad Consequence remaining is, that I find myself timid on Horseback, from being bold—but careless. I take great Pleasure in riding—& will drill myself into Confidence. I have changed my Horse, for the better. My former one was a Kentucky Racer (a Quality I did not know) &, no Doubt, took his Revenge for his Countrymen, by chastising me for my bad Politics. Like the Knight of La Mancha, I was discomfited by a Flock of Sheep; among which my Courser got entangled; & became enfuriated. To rescue my Favorites from any Instrumentality in my Disaster, I must mention; that there was not a Broad-tail on the Ground—but my own—& that might really have been taken, after the Contusion—for the Appendage of a black Sheep. I had three trenched Gashes in my Pericraneum; but yet I have escaped becoming crack brained— which may be reckoned uncivil—as it is too fashionable,—now a Days—among politicians—at least; & it is the ton—to be in the Fashion.— Believe me, always, most affectionately yours—