Your affectionate PORTIA.

WEYMOUTH, June 15th, 1775.

I hope we shall see each other again, and rejoice together in happier days; the little ones are well, and send duty to papa.  Don’t fail of letting me hear from you by every opportunity.  Every line is like a precious relic of the saints.

I have a request to make of you; something like the barrel of sand, I suppose you will think it, but really of much more importance to me.  It is, that you would send out Mr. Bass, and purchase me a bundle of pins and put them in your trunk for me.  The cry for pins is so great that what I used to buy for seven shillings and sixpence are now twenty shillings, and not to be had for that.  A bundle contains six thousand, for which I used to give a dollar; but if you can procure them for fifty shillings, or three pounds, pray let me have them.  I am, with the tenderest regard, Your PORTIA.

BRAINTREE, June 18th, 1775.

My Dearest Friend: 

The day—­perhaps the decisive day is come, on which the fate of America depends.  My bursting heart must find vent at my pen.  I have just heard that our dear friend, Dr. Warren, is no more, but fell gloriously fighting for his country, saying, “Better to die honorably in the field than ignominiously hang upon the gallows.”  Great is our loss.  He has distinguished himself in every engagement by his courage and fortitude, by animating the soldiers, and leading them on by his own example.  A particular account of these dreadful but, I hope, glorious days, will be transmitted you, no doubt, in the exactest manner.

“The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; but the God of Israel is He that giveth strength and power unto His people.  Trust in Him at all times, ye people:  pour out your hearts before Him; God is a refuge for us.”  Charlestown is laid in ashes.  The battle began upon our intrenchments upon Bunker’s Hill, Saturday morning about three o’clock, and has not ceased yet, and it is now three o’clock Sabbath afternoon.

It is expected they will come out over the Neck to-night, and a dreadful battle must ensue.  Almighty God, cover the heads of our countrymen, and be a shield to our dear friends!  How many have fallen we know not.  The constant roar of the cannon is so distressing that we cannot eat, drink, or sleep.  May we be supported and sustained in the dreadful conflict.  I shall tarry here till it is thought unsafe by my friends, and then I have secured myself a retreat at your brother’s, who has kindly offered me part of his house.  I cannot compose myself to write any further at present.  I will add more as I hear further.

Your PORTIA.

BRAINTREE, November 27th, 1775.

Colonel Warren returned last week to Plymouth, so that I shall not hear anything from you until he goes back again, which will not be till the last of this month.  He damped my spirits greatly by telling me that the court had prolonged your stay another month.  I was pleasing myself with the thought that you would soon be upon your return.  It is in vain to repine.  I hope the public will reap what I sacrifice.