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MY DEAREST FRIEND,
I HAVE received in your favor of the 15th an entertaining account of Vortigern and Rowena.
Our wagon is mired to the axletree in a bog, and unable to advance or retreat. The people only can draw it out ; but whether it will be backwards or for wards I know not. The horses upon Portland hill employed to draw up hill, are so equally matched with the load and those behind, that the wheels can roll neither up nor down. Pegged like Ariel in a rifted oak, we can only sprawl in the air with our arms and legs, and fill the atmosphere with our cries and clamors.
I forgot to mention the young men's land. I must have it. I always understood there were but eleven acres. The price is exorbitant. But pray the doc tor to make the best bargain he can, and finish the business. I mean the land of the young Haydens.
The charming letter from our son I return. I know very well all his meaning. He will see man kind in his youth.
I am, with attachments and wishes and affections unutterable,
Yours of the 18th reached me in four days, i. e., on the 22d. I know your difficulties. I mean to do very little at farming. I will let out on shares all I have next year. I see no prospect of leaving this city before the fifth or sixth of June. Obstinacy must be resisted with rational firmness and steadiness.