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MY DEAREST FRIEND,
YOUR letters of the 21,22, 23, and 26th of April, are all before me. They have inspired me with all the melancholy in which they were written. Our mother and our niece are gone to rest. The first a fruitfully ripe, the last but a blossom or a bud. I have suffered for you as much as you have suffered, but I could give you no aid, or amusement, or comfort. I pray God that these dispensations may be for our good. My mother's countenance and conversation was a source of enjoyment to me that is now dried up for ever, at Quincy. Our ancestors are now all gone, and we are to follow them very soon to a country where there will be no war or rumor of war, no envy, jealousy, rivalry, or party.
You and I are now entering on a new scene, which will be the most difficult and least agreeable of any in our lives. I hope the burden will be lighter lo both of us, when we come together.
I am, as long as life lasts, your ever affectionate