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Dearest Friend:
Can it truly have been seven months since we parted - since I returned to a habitation rendered desolate by the absence of my Dearest Friend and my two oldest sons? I endeavour to remain ever the steadfast Roman matron, the Portia of antiquity - though how difficult the days, how long the nights!
Nab and Tommy prosper, and we continue to feather the Adams Specie Bank by selling the articles which you so kindly sent in previous posts. Please make certain that the lengths of black ribbon, the fans and the gauze kerchiefs are forthcoming. For ourselves, to make simple dresses, please send an ell or two of figured lawn, with similar lace, though Belgian would not be despised.
The Marquis de LaFayette arrived in Boston to universal joy. Though we were able to spend but scant time together, he told me of disquieting rumors regarding fearful bigotry simmering in London. From your vantage in Paris, I hope that you may elucidate for your worried family in America. Though we remain at war with the odious king's government, I am not insensible to the great many good people who may be endangered by an outbreak of fanaticism. I know that men like Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox (though stories of his ambition are disquieting) and the late Lord Chatham have spoken for our American Cause - I pray that their sentiments may prevail in all wild winds.
But the cattle need to be brought back from the fields, the windlass for the well still requires mending and I cannot seem to keep hired men in wartime. It is not that I complain, John, but I cannot help but reflect that perhaps I was made for adventures greater than these of the present climate.
Yours,
Abigail
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