that I think I have your whole correspondence for nearly thirty years laid up to remember you by,—I mean, of course, what you have directed to me. I would further say, that I feel grateful to you, and my brother, for calling to see my dear afflicted wife and children in their calamity. It is a great comfort that I can in my imagination see my always kind and affectionate old father with them, while at the same time the responsibilities I have assumed constrain me to be absent, very contrary to my feeling (and it may be contrary to my duty, too; but trust not). I mean to return sometime in February, and should feel like one out of prison could I leave to-morrow. I hope you will visit my family as often as you can during my absence, and that you will write us often while here. We will endeavor, one of us, to reply promptly at least. We are getting along with our business slowly, but prudently, I trust, and as well as we could reasonably expect under all the circumstances; and so far as we can discover, we are in favor with this people, and also with the many we have had to do business with. I sent home a good supply of excellent cloth for pantaloons, from which you can have some if it suits you, and should arrive safe. If it does not, please write me without delay. Jason took the cloth with him (cost eighty-five cents per yard). I can bring more cloth of almost any kind when I return, should there be need.
When I think how very little influence I have even tried to use with my numerous acquaintances and friends, in turning their minds toward God and heaven, I feel justly condemned as a most wicked and slothful servant; and the more so, as I have very seldom had any one refuse to listen when I earnestly called him to hear. I sometimes have dreadful reflections about having fled to go down to Tarshish.
