There has been in town a conspiracy of the negroes. At present it is kept pretty private. It was discovered by one who endeavored to dissuade them from it. He, being threatened with his life, applied to Justice Quincy for protection. They conducted in this way: got an Irishman to draw up a petition to the Governor, telling him they would fight for him, provided he would arm them and engage to liberate them if he conquered. And it is said that he attended so much to it as to consult Percy upon it; and one Lieutenant Small has been very busy and active. There is but little said, and what steps they will take in consequence of it, I know not. I wish most sincerely there was not a slave in the province. It always appeared a most iniquitous scheme to me—to fight ourselves for what we are daily robbing and plundering from those who have as good a right to freedom as we have. You know my mind upon this subject.
I left all our little ones well, and shall return to them to-night. I hope to hear from you by the return of the bearer of this, and by Revere. I long for the day of your return, yet look upon you as much safer where you are—but I know it will not do for you. Not one action has been brought to this court; no business of any sort in your way. All law ceases and the gospel will soon follow, for they are supporters of each other. Adieu. My father hurries me. Yours most sincerely.
24. John Adams.
Philadelphia, 25 September, 1774.
I would not lose the opportunity of writing to you, though I must be short. Tedious indeed is our business—slow as snails. I have not been used to such ways. We sit only before dinner. We dine at four o'clock. We are crowded with a levee in the evening.
Fifty gentlemen meeting together, all strangers, are not acquainted with each other's language, ideas, views, designs. They are, therefore, jealous of each other—fearful, timid, skittish.
25. John Adams.
Philadelphia, 29 September, 1774.