observe it.

Never use a slighting expression to her, even

in jest, for slights in jest, after frequent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earnest. Be studious in your profession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. At least, you will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for such consequences. I pray God to bless you both; being ever your affectionate friend.

To Miss Mary
Stevenson,

dated Lon

I see very clearly the unhappiness of your situation, and that it does not arise from any don, Oct. 1768. fault in you. I pity you most sincerely. I should not, however, have thought of giving you advice on this occasion, if you had not requested it, believing, as I do, that your own good sense is more than sufficient to direct you in every point of duty to others and yourself. If, then, I should advise you to any thing, that may be contrary to your own opinion, do not imagine, that I shall condemn you if you do not follow such advice. I shall only think, that, from a better acquaintance with circumstances, you form a better judgment of what is fit for you to do. Now, I conceive with you, that both from her affection to you, and from the long habit of having you with her, would really be miserable without you. Her temper, perhaps, was never of the best; and, when that is the case, age seldom mends it. Much of her unhappiness must arise from thence; and, since wrong turns of mind, when confirmed by time, are almost as little in our power to cure, as those of the body, I think with you, that her case is a compassionable one.

If she had, through her own imprudence, brought on

Your

herself any grievous sickness, I know you would think it your duty to attend and nurse her with filial tenderness, even were your own health to be endangered by it. apprehension, therefore, is right, that it may be your duty. to live with her, though inconsistent with your happiness and your interest; but this can only mean present interest and present happiness; for I think your future, greater, and more lasting interest and happiness will arise from the reflection, that you have done your duty, and from the high rank you will ever hold in the esteem of all that know you, for having persevered in doing that duty under so many and great discouragements.

My advice, then, must be, that you return to her as soon as the time proposed for your visit is expired; and that you continue, by every means in your power, to make the remainder of her days as comfortable to her as possible. Invent amusements for her; be pleased when she accepts of them, and patient when she perhaps peevishly rejects them. I know this is hard, but I think you are equal to it; not from any servility of temper, but from abundant goodIn the mean time, all your friends, sensible of your present uncomfortable situation, should endeavour to ease your burden, by acting in concert with you, and to give her as many opportunities as possible of enjoying the pleasures of society, for your sake.

ness.

Nothing is more apt to sour the temper of aged people, than the apprehension that they are neglected; and they are extremely apt to entertain such suspicions. It was therefore that I proposed asking her to be of our late party; but, your mother disliking it, the motion was dropped, as some others have been, by my too great easiness, contrary to my judgment. Not but that I was sensible her being

with us might have lessened our pleasure, but I hoped it might have prevented you some pain.

In fine, nothing can contribute to true happiness, that is inconsistent with duty; nor can a course of action, conformable to it, be finally without an ample reward. For God governs; and he is good. I pray him to direct you; and, indeed, you will never be without his direction, if you humbly ask it, and show yourself always ready to obey it. Farewell, my dear friend, and believe me ever sincerely and affectionately yours.

To a friend, dated

1768.

Lon

Your sentiments of the importance of the

don, 28 Nov., present dispute between Great Britain and the colonies appear to me extremely just. There is nothing I wish for more, than to see it amicably and equitably settled.

But Providence will bring about its own ends by its own means; and if it intends the downfall of a nation, that nation will be so blinded by its pride and other passions, as not to see its danger, or how its fall may be prevented.

Being born and bred in one of the countries, and having lived long and made many agreeable connexions of friendship in the other, I wish all prosperity to both; but I have talked and written so much and so long on the subject, that my acquaintance are weary of hearing, and the public of reading any more of it, which begins to make me weary of talking and writing; especially as I do not find that I have gained any point, in either country, except that of rendering myself suspected by my impartiality'; in England, of being too much an American, and in America, of being too much an Englishman. Your opinion, however, weighs with me, and encourages me to try one effort more, in a full,

though concise statement of facts, accompanied with arguments drawn from those facts; to be published about the meeting of Parliament, after the holidays. If any good may be done I shall rejoice; but at present I almost despair. Have you ever seen the barometer so low as of late? The 22d instant, mine was at 28.41, and yet the weather fine and fair.

To his wife, dated London, 21 Dec., 1768.

Captain Falconer has been arrived at Plymouth some time, but, the winds being contrary, could get no farther; so I have not yet received the apples, meal, &c., and fear they will be spoiled. I send with this some of the new kind of oats much admired here to make oatmeal of, and for other uses, as being free from husks; and some Swiss barley, six rows to an ear. Perhaps our friends may like to try them, and you may distribute the seed among them. Give some to Mr. Roberts, Mr. Rhoads, Mr. Thomson, Mr. Bartram, our son, and others.

I hope the cold you complain of, in two of your letters, went off without any ill consequences. We are, as you observe, blest with a great share of health, considering our years, now sixty-three. For my own part, I think of late that my constitution rather mends. I have had but one touch of the gout, and that a light one, since I left you. It was just after my arrival here, so that this is the fourth winter I have been free. Walking a great deal tires me less than it used to do. I feel stronger and more active. Yet I would not have you think, that I fancy I shall grow young again. I know that men of my bulk often fail suddenly. I know that, according to the course of nature, I cannot at most continue much longer, and that the living even of another day is uncertain. I therefore now form no

schemes, but such as are of immediate execution, indulging myself in no future prospect except one, that of returning to Philadelphia, there to spend the evening of life with my friends and family.

Το Michael

Collinson.

tain.]

Understanding that an account of our dear [Date uncer departed friend, Mr. Peter Collinson,* is intended to be given to the public, I cannot omit expressing my approbation of the design. The characters of good men are exemplary, and often stimulate the well disposed to an imitation, beneficial to mankind, and honorable to themselves. And as you may be unacquainted with the following instances of his zeal and usefulness in promoting knowledge, which fell within my observation, I take the liberty of informing you, that in 1730, a subscription library being set on foot at Philadelphia, he encouraged the design by making several very valuable presents to it, and procuring others from his friends; and, as the library company had a considerable sum arising annually to be laid out in books, and needed a judicious friend in London to

* Peter Collinson, a celebrated botanist, was descended from a family of ancient standing in the county of Westmoreland, but born himself, in 1693, in Clement's Lane, Lombard Street. His parents realized a handsome fortune by trade in Gracechurch Street, the bulk of which coming to Peter, who was the eldest son, he was enabled to follow his favorite pursuit of natural history. He had one of the finest gardens in England, at Peckham, in Surrey, whence he removed in 1749 to Mill Hill, in the parish of Hendon in Middlesex, where he died, August 11th, 1768. Mr. Collinson kept up a correspondence with men of science in all parts of the world, and he sent the first electrical machine that was ever seen in America, as a present to the Library Company at Philadelphia. He was also a liberal contributor to the public library of that city; and an intimate friend of Dr. Franklin, who received from him many hints and papers on the subject of electricity. -W. T. F.