224. Abigail Adams.
16 November, 1777.
In a letter which came to me to-night you chide yourself for neglecting to write so frequently as you had done. 'T is true a very long space of near a fortnight passed without hearing one word from you. I cannot help feeling anxious when such a space elapses without receiving a line, but I have no reason to complain. You have, considering your avocations, been more attentive than I had reason to expect.
"Heaven sure taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banished lover or some captive maid."
I have been more fearful than formerly of writing by the post, as I have never received a letter from you by that conveyance since you left Philadelphia. Mr. Colman brought me yours of 25 and 26 October. You have before this time received from me one of the same date, since which I have not written. I have been too much mortified with a late expedition to write you any particulars concerning it. Indeed, it was from the beginning a subject of burlesque, owing, I believe, to the small opinion most people had of the heroic talents of the commanders. It was called a secret expedition to Newport. A fortnight before the troops marched, there were by all accounts as fine a set collected as any spirited commander could have wished for, and 't is said for twenty days the island might have been successfully (to all appearance) attacked. The public are very angry, as well they may be, and demand an inquiry. I know you will be mortified, because it has been a favorite object with you, but if you want your arms crowned with victory, you should not appoint what General Gates calls dreaming Deacons to conduct them.
General Burgoyne and his troops arrived last week in Cambridge. All seems to be quietness at present. From the southward we get no very authentic accounts. To-day Howe and his whole army are captives! To-morrow they have got possession of our forts and weighed the chevaux de frise.
18 November.
No news at all. Our mountebank story of captivating Howe and his army is come to nothing. The southern troops must have some assistance from the northern before anything very brilliant will take place. Providence overrules things for the best, and will work out our salvation for us in the wisest and best manner, provided we perform our duty.
Now, my dear friend, shall I ask you when you will return, a question I have not asked for these ten months? Knowing your determination when you left me, I have summoned patience and endeavored to submit to my destiny. By the time this reaches you eleven months will be elapsed, and you, I hope, preparing for your journey. It will be a tedious one, I fear, in the depth of winter, but let the thought of the cordial reception you will be assured of meeting warm the cold wintry blasts and make your return joyful. Adieu.
Yours.