With you, this silence of mine and of others was represented as factious, and as a discountenance to the measure of your relief.  Do you think us children?  If it had been our wish to embroil matters, and, for the sake of distressing ministry, to commit the two kingdoms in a dispute, we had nothing to do but (without at all condemning the propositions) to have gone into the commercial detail of the objects of them.  It could not have been refused to us:  and you, who know the nature of business so well, must know that this would have caused such delays, and given rise during that delay to such discussions, as all the wisdom of your favorite minister could never have settled.  But, indeed, you mistake your men.  We tremble at the idea of a disunion of these two nations.  The only thing in which we differ with you is this,—­that we do not think your attaching yourselves to the court and quarrelling with the independent part of this people is the way to promote the union of two free countries, or of holding them together by the most natural and salutary ties.

* * * * *

You will be frightened, when you see this long letter.  I smile, when I consider the length of it myself.  I never, that I remember, wrote any of the same extent.  But it shows me that the reproaches of the country that I once belonged to, and in which I still have a dearness of instinct more than I can justify to reason, make a greater impression on me than I had imagined.  But parting words are admitted to be a little tedious, because they are not likely to be renewed.  If it will not be making yourself as troublesome to others as I am to you, I shall be obliged to you, if you will show this, at their greatest leisure, to the Speaker, to your excellent kinsman, to Mr. Grattan, Mr. Yelverton, and Mr. Daly:  all these I have the honor of being personally known to, except Mr. Yelverton, to whom I am only known by my obligations to him.  If you live in any habits with my old friend, the Provost, I shall be glad that he, too, sees this my humble apology.

Adieu! once more accept my best thanks for the interest you take in me.  Believe that it is received by an heart not yet so old as to have lost its susceptibility.  All here give you the best old-fashioned wishes of the season; and believe me, with the greatest truth and regard,

My dear Sir,

Your most faithful and obliged humble servant,

EDMUND BURKE.

BEACONSFIELD, New year’s Day, 1780.

I am frightened at the trouble I give you and our friends; but I recollect that you are mostly lawyers, and habituated to read long, tiresome papers—­and, where your friendship is concerned, without a fee; I am sure, too, that you will not act the lawyer in scrutinizing too minutely every expression which my haste may make me use.  I forgot to mention my friend O’Hara, and others; but you will communicate it as you please.

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