are for the measure.  Should it take place, all may yet come to rights, except for the Turks, who must retire from Europe, and this they must do, were France Quixotic enough to undertake to support them.  We, I hope, shall be left free to avail ourselves of the advantages of neutrality:  and yet, much I fear, the English, or rather their stupid King, will force us out of it.  For thus I reason.  By forcing us into the war against them, they will be engaged in an expensive land war, as well as a sea war.  Common sense dictates, therefore, that they should let us remain neuter:  ergo, they will not let us remain neuter.  I never yet found any other general rule for foretelling what they will do, but that of examining what they ought not to do.

*****

I have the honor to be, with my best respects to Mrs. Adams, and sentiments of perfect esteem and regard to yourself, Sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,

Th:  Jefferson

LETTER XCIX.—­TO COLONEL SMITH, September 28,1787

TO COLONEL SMITH.

Paris, September 28,1787.

Dear Sir,

I have duly received your favor by Mr. Cutting.  I had before had a transient acquaintance with him, and knew him to be sensible.  Your recommendation is always a new merit.  I really think, and had taken the liberty some time ago of hinting to Congress, that they would do well to have a diplomatic character at Lisbon.  There is no country whose commerce is more interesting to us.  I wish Congress would correspond to the wishes of that court, in sending a person there, and to mine, in sending yourself.  For I confess, I had rather see you there than at London, because I doubt whether it be honorable for us to keep any body at London, unless they keep some person at New York.  Of all nations on earth, they require to be treated with the most hauteur.  They require to be kicked into common good manners.  You ask, if you shall say any thing to Sullivan about the bill.  No.  Only that it is paid.  I have, within these two or three days, received letters from him explaining the matter.  It was really for the skin and bones of the moose, as I had conjectured.  It was my fault, that I had not given him a rough idea of the expense I would be willing to incur for them.  He had made the acquisition an object of a regular campaign, and that too of a winter one.  The troops he employed sallied forth, as he writes me, in the month of March—­much snow—­a herd attacked—­one killed—­in the wilderness—­a road to cut twenty miles—­to be drawn by hand from the frontiers to his house—­bones to be cleaned, &c. &c. &c.  In fine, he put himself to an infinitude of trouble, more than I meant:  he did it cheerfully, and I feel myself really under obligations to him.  That the tragedy might not want a proper catastrophe, the box, bones, and all are lost:  so that this chapter of Natural History will still remain a blank.  But I have written