134. Abigail Adams.
Boston, 25 August, 1776.
I sent Johnny[154] last evening to the post-office for letters. He soon returned, and pulling one from under his gown gave it me. The young rogue, smiling and watching mamma's countenance, draws out another and then another, highly gratified to think he had so many presents to bestow.
I took the liberty of sending my compliments to General Lincoln, and asking him some questions which you proposed to me, but which I was totally unable to answer,[155] and he has promised a particular reply to them.
As to provisions, there is no scarcity. 'Tis true they are high, but that is more owing to the advanced price of labor than the scarcity. English goods of every kind are not purchasable, at least by me. They are extravagantly high. West India goods articles are very high, all except sugars, which have fallen half since I came into town. Our New England rum is four shillings per gallon; molasses the same price; loaf sugar two and fourpence; cotton-wool four shillings per pound; sheep's wool two shillings; flax one and sixpence. In short, one hundred pounds two years ago would purchase more than two will now.
House rent in this town is very low. Some of the best and genteelest houses rent for twenty pounds a year. Ben Hallowell's has been offered for ten, and Mr. Chardon's for thirteen pounds six shillings and eight pence.
The privateer Independence, which sailed from Plymouth about three weeks ago, has taken a Jamaica man laden with sugars, and sent her into Marblehead last Saturday. I hear the Defence has taken another. I think we make a fine haul of prizes.
Colonel Quincy desires me to ask you whether you have received a letter from him; he wrote you some time ago.
I like Dr. Franklin's device for a seal. It is such a one as will please most; at least it will be most agreeable to the spirit of New England.[156]
We have not any news here—anxiously waiting the event, and in daily expectation of hearing tidings from New York. Heaven grant they may be glorious for our country and countrymen. Then will I glory in being an American. Ever, Ever yours,
Portia.
P. S. We are in such want of lead as to be obliged to take down the leads from the windows in this town.