dearest soul before I leave this place, which will be the next week. I am yet in uncertainty where I shall serve this summer, for Cadogan is not yet returned from Hanover; but by a letter I have received from the King of Denmark, and that I send by this post to Lord Treasurer, I see that I must not depend upon any of the Danish troops; so that if Hanover should persist in doing the same, though these people should consent to what I propose, it will not be in our power to find the troops necessary, which gives me, as you may imagine, a good deal of vexation. I hope my next will let you know the certainty of what I shall be able to do.

My dearest soul, my desire of being with you is so great that I am not able to express the impatience I am in to have this campaign over. I pray God it may be so happy that there may be no more occasion of my coming, but that I may ever stay with you, my dearest soul.

The Same to the Same, written just after the Battle of Ramillies.

RAMILLIES, Monday, May 24, 11 o'clock, 1706.

I DID not tell my dearest soul the design I had of engaging the enemy, if possible, to a battle,

fearing the concern she has for me might make her uneasy; but I can now give her the satisfaction of letting her know that on Sunday last we fought, and that God Almighty has been pleased to give us a victory. I must leave the particulars to this bearer, Colonel Richards, for, having been on horseback all Sunday, and after the battle marching all night, my head aches to that degree that it is very uneasy to me to write. Poor Bingfield, holding my stirrup for me and helping me on horseback, was killed. I am told that he leaves his wife and mother in a poor condition. I can't write to any of my children, so you will let them know I am well, and that I desire they will thank God for preserving me. And pray give my duty to the Queen, and let her know the truth of my heart, that the greatest pleasure I have in this success is, that it may be a great service to her affairs; for I am sincerely sensible of all her goodness to me and mine. Pray believe me when I assure you that I love you more than I can express.

The Letters of Mr. and Mrs. John Adams.

Especially interesting to Americans are the letters of John Adams and his wife, which were written when the American conflict began which made the United States a nation, and in the course of which correspondence we may trace many of the events that attended the formation of the young nation. Mrs. Adams's letters have been deservedly famous among her country women. They are homely, sensible, and not without the eloquence of the heart. She was a tower of strength to her husband, and deserved the name of Portia he seems to have given her, and which she often signs herself in writing to him. Like Brutus's Portia, she was well fathered and well husbanded, and has much of the stuff of the Roman matron in her composition. The letters of the pair breathe little of the romance of passion, but they are among the best specimens of letters which spring from a union based on harmony of opinion and highest esteem for each other's virtues, -a union of real friendship as well as of love, and most of their letters appropriately begin, “My dearest friend.”

John Adams to his Wife.

PHILADELPHIA, 22 May, 1776.

WHEN a man is seated in the midst of forty people, some of whom are talking and others whispering, it is not easy to think what is proper to write. I shall send you the newspapers, which will inform you of public affairs and the particular bickerings of parties in this colony. I am happy

to learn from your letter that a flame is at last raised among the people for the fortification of the harbour. Whether Nantasket or Point Alderton would be proper posts to be taken, I can't say. But I would fortify every place which is proper, and which cannon could be obtained for. Generals Gates and Mifflin are now here. General Washington will be here to-morrow, when we shall consult and deliberate concerning the operations of the ensuing campaign.

We have dismal accounts from Europe of the preparations against us. This summer will be very important to us. We shall have a severe trial of our patience, fortitude, and perseverance. But I hope we shall do valiantly and tread down our enemies.

I have some thoughts of petitioning the General Court for leave to bring my family here. I am a lonely, forlorn creature here. It used to be some comfort to me that I had a servant and some horses. They composed a sort of family for me. But now there is not one creature here that I seem to have any kind of relation to. It is a cruel reflection, which very often comes across me, that I should be separated so far from those babes whose education and welfare lie so near my heart. But greater misfortunes than these must not divert us from superior duties.

Your sentiments of the duties we owe to our country are such as become the best of women and the best of men. Among all the disappointments and perplexities which have fallen to my share in life, nothing has contributed so much to support my mind as the choice blessing of a wife, whose capacity enabled her to comprehend, and whose pure virtue obliged her to approve, the views of her husband. This has been the cheering consolation of my heart in my most solitary, gloomy, and disconsolate hours. In this remote situation I am deprived in a great measure of this comfort. Yet I read and read again your charming letters, and they serve me, in some faint degree, as a substitute for the company and conversation of the writer. I want to take a walk with you in the garden, to go over to the common, the plain, the meadow. I want to take Charles in one hand and Tom in the other, and walk with you, Abby on your right hand and John upon my left, to view the cornfields, the orchards, &c.

Alas, poor imagination! how faintly and imperfectly do you supply the want of originality and reality. But instead of these pleasing scenes of domestic life, I hope you will not be disturbed with the alarms of war. I hope, yet I fear.