strange people; because they can live upon what they call bank notes, without working, they think that all the world can do the same.  This goodly country never would have been tilled and cleared with these notes.  I am sure when Mr. F. B. was here, he saw thee sweat and take abundance of pains; he often told me how the Americans worked a great deal harder than the home Englishmen; for there he told us, that they have no trees to cut down, no fences to make, no negroes to buy and to clothe:  and now I think on it, when wilt thee send him those trees he bespoke?  But if they have no trees to cut down, they have gold in abundance, they say; for they rake it and scrape it from all parts far and near.  I have often heard my grandfather tell how they live there by writing.  By writing they send this cargo unto us, that to the West, and the other to the East Indies.  But, James, thee knowest that it is not by writing that we shall pay the blacksmith, the minister, the weaver, the tailor, and the English shop.  But as thee art an early man follow thine own inclinations; thee wantest some rest, I am sure, and why shouldst thee not employ it as it may seem meet unto thee.—­However let it be a great secret; how wouldst thee bear to be called at our country meetings, the man of the pen?  If this scheme of thine was once known, travellers as they go along would point out to our house, saying, here liveth the scribbling fanner; better hear them as usual observe, here liveth the warm substantial family, that never begrudgeth a meal of victuals, or a mess of oats, to any one that steps in.  Look how fat and well clad their negroes are.

Thus, Sir, have I given you an unaffected and candid detail of the conversation which determined me to accept of your invitation.  I thought it necessary thus to begin, and to let you into these primary secrets, to the end that you may not hereafter reproach me with any degree of presumption.  You’ll plainly see the motives which have induced me to begin, the fears which I have entertained, and the principles on which my diffidence hath been founded.  I have now nothing to do but to prosecute my task—­Remember you are to give me my subjects, and on no other shall I write, lest you should blame me for an injudicious choice—­However incorrect my style, however unexpert my methods, however trifling my observations may hereafter appear to you, assure yourself they will all be the genuine dictates of my mind, and I hope will prove acceptable on that account.  Remember that you have laid the foundation of this correspondence; you well know that I am neither a philosopher, politician, divine, nor naturalist, but a simple farmer.  I flatter myself, therefore, that you’ll receive my letters as conceived, not according to scientific rules to which I am a perfect stranger, but agreeable to the spontaneous impressions which each subject may inspire.  This is the only line I am able to follow, the line which nature has herself traced