[Extract]

Dear Sir,ー  The shipwreck of a vessel, said to be from Philadelphia to Boston, near Plymouth, with 120 pipes of wine; 118 of which are saved ー another from Boston to Halifax, near Beverly, with about £240 worth of dry goods ー the taking of a wood vessel, bound to Boston, by Captain Adams ー and the sudden departure of Mr. [Edmund] Randolph (occasioned by the death of his uncle [Peyton Randolph]), are all the occurrences worth noticing, which have happened since you left this.

I have ordered the wine and goods to this place, for sale; as also the papers; the latter may unfold secrets that may not be pleasing to some of your townsmen: and which, so soon as known, will be communincated.²

I have been happy enough to convince Captain McPherson, as he says, of the propriety of returning to the Congress ー he sets out this day, and I am happy in his having an opportunity of laying before them a scheme for the destruction of the naval force of Great Britain.

P.S. ー I had just finished my letter when a blundering Lieutenant of the blundering Captain Coit, who had just blundered upon two vessels from Nova Scotia, came in with the account of it, and before I could rescue my letter, without knowing what he did, picked up a candle and sprinkled it with grease;³ but these are kinds of blunders which one can readily excuse. The vessels contain hay, livestock, poultry, &c., and are now safely moored in Plymouth harbour.