Cold in my professions, warm in ⟨my⟩3 friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it m⟨ight⟩4 be in my power, by action rather than words, ⟨to⟩ convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that ’till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You sh⟨ould⟩ not have taken advantage of my sensibility to ste⟨al⟩ into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, yyou have so artfully instilled into ⟨me⟩.
I have received your two letters one from Philadelphia the other from Chester.5 I am pleased with your success, so far, and I hope the favourable omens, that precede your application to the Assembly6 may have as favourable an issue, provided the situation of affairs sh⟨ould⟩ require it which I fear will be the case. But both for your country’s sake and for my own I wish the enemy may be gone from Georgia before you arrive and that you may be obliged to return and share the fortunes of your old friends. ⟨In respect⟩ to the Commission, which you ⟨received from⟩ Congress, all the world must think your conduct perfectly right.7 Indeed your ideas upon this occasion seem not to have their wonted accuracy; and you have had scruples, in a great measure, without foundation. By your appointment as Aide De Camp to the Commander in Chief, you had as much the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, as any officer in the line—your receiving a co
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