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Philadelphia, 11 March, 1797.


YESTERDAY only I received yours of March 1. I am surprised you should have received none from me from 11th February. I have written never less than once a week, seldom less than twice, and nine weeks out of ten three times, ever since I left you. The roads, or some irregularity of the post, must have occasioned your disappointment. I hope you will obtain Mr. Hears, but I must leave every thing to you. The load of business that now compels my attention every day is such, that I cannot think a moment about my farm. Mr. Maund writes me that he has sent me a barrel of seed oats, of a superior quality, to Boston, by a Captain Allen, who was to sail in the be ginning of March from Virginia. The family is gone. Mr. Lear and Mr. Dandridge remain, but it is a great work to arrange and clean the house. I can t get into it before the middle of next week. I hope Billings will sow the barley and grass seed well. What will become of my meadow cornfield I know not. However, I must leave that and all the rest to you, and I could not trust it better.

My aunt Vesey's death was unknown to me. I am very glad you went to the funeral. The feast that succeeded was one of those things which are not much to my taste. I am glad you went. I went too. But these things give offence to the plain people of our country upon whose friendship I have always de pended. They are practised by the elegant and the rich for their own ends, which are not always the best. If I could have my wish, there should never be a show or a feast made for the President while I hold the office. My birthday happens when Congress will never sit, so that I hope it will never be talked of. These are hints, entre nous. I am, my dearest friend,

Ever yours,


Washington has at last denounced the forged letters.