Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren, 13 April 1776
Braintree April 13. 1776
Dear Marcia
I Received a few lines 1 from you more than a week ago, and determined to have replied immediately to them, but tho you will scarcly believe me, I have never found an opportunity to take up my pen till this moment, which is ten oClock Saturday evening; tis true I have wrote several evenings since, but only to my Nearest Friend, and he has chid me for my delays, delays of which I have not been guilty, but the Letters have not reachd him. I miss–d the very kind care of my much valued Friend 2 greatly in that respect.
Your freedom in detaining the pamphlets was very agreable to me, it assurd me that Marcia made no Stranger of her Friend; and judging by her own Heart, knew that any entertainment or pleasure of her Friends contributed to her happiness.
I find myself dear Marcia, not only doubled in Wedlock but multiplied in cares to which I know myself uneaquel, in the Education of my little flock I stand in need of the constant assistance of my Better half. 3
I can not do them the justice I wish to, from the multiplicity of other concerns which devolve upon me in consequence of the continued absence of my associate.
I find it necessary not only to pay attention to my own in door domestick affairs, but to every thing without, about our little farm &c. The Man upon whom I used to place dependance was taken sick last winter and left us. I have not been able to supply his place–therefore am obliged to direct what I fear I do not properly understand. Frugality, Industery and ecconomy are the Lessons of the day–at least they must be so for me or my small Boat will suffer shipwreck.
I have been much gratified with the respect shewn to the remains of our worthy Friend. I hope and believe that the orator excerted himself upon the occasion–he had a fine field to display himself in.
O pardon me, thou bleeding peice of Earth!
That I am meek and gentle with these Butchers
Thou art the Ruins of as brave a Man
As ever live–d in the tide of times;
Woe to [the] hand that shed this costly Blood
Over thy Wounds now do I prophesy,
(Which like dumb mouths, do ope their Ruby lips
To beg the voice and utterance of a Tongue)
A curse shall light upon that line of Men
Domestick fury and firce civil Strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Brittain.
Shakspear
But where do I ramble. You inquire for inteligence. I immagine you have the same that I have. I have more news papers than Letters. My Last containd an account of the Death of Governor Ward of Road Island with the small pox, –an amiable and sensible Man, a stedfast Friend to his Country upon very pure principals.–
I hope you will fullfill your promise of writing me a long Letter. How do you like Mrs. Washington. Any other person you have seen, and noticed should be glad of your opinion. I love characters drawn by your pen.–When do you think of returning? Suppose you have not ventured into Boston. I dare not tho I have a great desire to look at it.
My affectionate Regards (Shall I use that word) to the Coll. from his and your assured Friend,
Portia