CAPTAIN FITCH POOLE.

.

WASHINGTON, Jan. 17, 1803.

Government has done all that is intended with regard to the affair at New Orleans, and I must regret that the dignity of the nation has been so much degraded, as well as its interests neglected. There is too much reason to believe foreign powers are encouraged to make aggressions from the contemptuous opinion they have formed of the energies of the present administration. It is strongly suspected that there has been culpable negligence and imbecility of the Executive or Ministers abroad, perhaps in both, and a fear of disclosure has been the ground of the late astonishing refusal of a call for information. But all is of a piece. We have only to wait the issue of measures we can not control. Should Mr. Monroe fail of a purchase, little is to be expected from his negotiations. We know too much of his character, while a Minister in France, to expect it. His adulatory speech to the Directors, when he told them, "The more they whipped us, the better we should love them," will not soon be forgotten.

The sound of war is grating to the nice sensibilities of the Executive, but if France should be so impolite as not to regard our delicate feelings, and takes possession of Louisiana in its present state, war must be the only alternative. The people over the mountains are extremely uneasy, and they must be quieted, or the present current of popularity will be turned into a different channel. The reins of government are completely in the hands of men who mean to guide the Car. The minority can do little more than look on. Measures they would adopt are rejected merely because they have the presumption to propose them. This is a principle which has been openly avowed in the House. After all, it is our consolation that there is "One who is higher than the highest!" The Almighty reigns, and we shall not suffer more than our iniquities deserve. I can not yet believe our nation is ripe for ruin. We have much to lament, and we have much to hope. In due time, a way of escape will be found. A government raised by the basest means, and pursuing unjustifiable measures, will not be permitted long to prosper. I must be

lieve in the Scripture truth, that "A lying tongue is but for a moment." M. CUTLER.

[Dr. Cutler to his son.]

WASHINGTON, Jan. 21, 1803. My Dear Son:-Your letter of the 1st instant, in which you remark on the Message and the beginning of a new year, I think I received just as I had finished a long letter to you. Your remarks on the new year are just. We ought to recollect the mercies of the time past, and adore that goodness from which it has flowed. While we mourn our past failings, we are encouraged to plead for future favors and kind aid from heaven, to live more answerable to the great ends for which we were made, and the purposes for which all our blessings are bestowed.

Last evening I received your letter of the 7th, in which you have given me a particular account of the weather. This I wished much to know. But I must confess to you, this letter has given me much uneasiness. It discovers an unsteady, roving state of mind. You appear to complain of the smallness of the farm, and of spending the winter unprofitably, and intimate that the farmer should have a trade, or a large farm and sufficient and profitable help, and that, without these, it will be "difficult for him to appear with decency, much more shine in the polite circles of society." My son, more is implied in these expressions than you have duly weighed and considered. You certainly have the care of a farm sufficiently large to occupy yourself and Bill, with the utmost industry, every hour of your time. If it is not so large as you could wish, why complain, when it has been your lot to be so circumstanced in life? You have all your Father is able to give you. If some have more, have not thousands less? When I was of your age, I had nothing, and no one to help or direct me as to procuring a living in the world. I wanted the wisdom of experience and age. I suffered much for the want of it, and was sensible how much I wanted it. But it was the situation in which Providence had placed me. Through much misfortune

and severe trials, I have attained, solely by my own ex

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ertions, what I now possess. I knew I had no one under Providence to depend on but myself.

Let me remark to you upon the business on a farm in the winter, and apply it to your case. When you can not go over the ponds, could you not thresh your rye and oats; or haul the rocks, with the cart or drag, off the plow land in the farm; cut up the alders on the upland near the pond, which would help the pasture and make summer wood; go over all the apple trees, and take off all the sprouts and dry limbs; dig up, if there is but little frost, the oak stumps in the farm, which would be a saving of wood. You have more time to attend to your stock. Keep your horse-stable free from dung, for it certainly injures horses to stand in it. Virginians, who have the best in America, clean them several times in a day. Curry your horses well every day, and rub their legs. Curry your cattle well every day. Attend to your sheep; if you can spare it, begin now to give them a little corn and potatoes at least once a day. In bad weather, shell out your corn, attend to your cellar, clean it, put every thing in its place, and whitewash it. In a word, go over the land, look and see if you can do nothing to the fences, or find something to be done in other respects. Look over your nursery and trees in the garden and prune them. If the frost will permit, dig the garden. Wheel the manure where it should lie to be spread. Manure your borders and asparagus bed, if it has not been done before. By this I mean, however, only to turn your attention to these objects, that you may think over how much there is constantly to do on such a farm-far more than you can accomplish. When you have read this, let me beg you to go out to the barn and see whether, if I were to come home at that instant, I should not find some part in a dirty, bad state-horses standing in their dung, not well curried, perhaps not so carefully fed, cattle not curried, flax not all out, or grain not all threshed? Sure I am that, if I were in your place, I should find enough to look after every day, and more than I could accomplish.

But let me further observe. What would be the profit of a large farm if not well managed? The greater would be the care and the more would be the labor. I am certain a farm

no larger than ours, if managed to the best advantage, and the stock upon it, is fully sufficient to employ you and Bill, and support such a family as ours. But be this as it may, it is all we can command at present. We can not create property, or, if we could, it would not be best. By industry and prudence we may enlarge it. This should be our object. If my life and health are spared, and no unhappy difficulty intervenes, I do not doubt it. I will add no more on this part.

With respect to "mixing and shining in polite circles,” I shall not wonder if you should entertain erroneous and delusive ideas. It is not in polite circles that you are to look for exclusive happiness, nor for extensive information and the most correct opinions. It is not there you will find the most valuable characters, nor the most worthy citizens. It is often the reverse. The difference is not in improved knowledge, but in external manners. It is there you will find much corruption and vice, much of that kind of delusive pleasure which ends in disappointment and often in real misery. Those who take a transient view of them, and only observe their dress, their punctilios of manners, and style in conversation, may look at them with wonder and envy them their happiness; but if you were to mix and associate with them until you had contracted a familiarity, you would feel a conviction that happiness and real pleasures are not often their companions.

I am not, however, opposed to the refinements of society. But I know that young men, who are farmers, and especially situated as you are in the neighborhood of large towns, may become acquainted with that description of good company, which will afford the most rational and substantial enjoyment, without partaking of those evils and vices. This depends upon your own management and exertion.

Would you

You say you must delve and labor on a farm. wish to live without labor, and in constant dissipation? Providence has designed that this should not be your lot in life, and you ought to be thankful for it. It is of all situations the most to be deprecated. There are times and seasons for every thing. And every thing that concerns us has a relation

to our improvement of time. We should never find time to misspend it. Labor, then, in the proper time for labor; relax, at proper seasons; and associate with the best company within your reach. You will say this is only the vulgar, but you have no occasion to form any intimacy with them. You have acquaintances in Ipswich, which you may visit frequently with little loss of time. You have friends in Danvers, visit them as often as possible, and make it a point to see and contract acquaintance with the most respectable young people in the neighborhood. But resolution and exertion are indispensable. You must not wait for others to become acquainted with you. Find means to make yourself acquainted with them. This can be done. I have known young men that would, and did, form acquaintance with whom they pleased without half the advantages you enjoy. Your family, and your acquirements are sufficient as far as they ought to go. By your own exertions you have it in your power to gain attention, respect, and esteem. Remember, too, that in this way you will enjoy the highest relish of society; too much familiarity often breeds contempt. Intervals of company increases the enjoyment.

You must be sensible; I have often expressed to you my wish that you should associate with good company, and as often as it could be convenient, but, in your situation, it can not be enjoyed every day, and you must submit to your circumstances. When I have endeavored to dissuade you from spending your evenings, in constant succession, with those whom I know could not improve you in manners, in language, or any thing else, but might greatly injure, it was not because I wished to restrain you from society. Those around you are not to be despised; a proper sociability and respect is due them. If you ever rise in reputation, if you become respectable in the world, you must gain the respect and esteem of this class of society; for it makes up the greatest portion of mankind. This, however, you will never attain by too much familiarity, nor by a haughty distance. Study the happy medium; gain their esteem, but let them be sensible that you are placed in that grade of society which is above their level, which they are to look up to with respect. In at