O, I Have Read His Heart In

When Men Know Not What To Do, They Ought Not To Do They Know Not What

Heaven Grant Me That I May Thus Rejoice In My Children, Thus See Them Ornaments To Their Country, And Blessings To Their Parents.

How Difficult The Task To Quench The Fire And The Pride Of Private Ambition, And To Sacrifice Ourselves And All Our Hopes And Expectations To The Public Weal! How Few Have Souls Capable Of So Noble An Undertaking!

My Dear Son... Remember That You Are Accountable To Your Maker For All Your Words And Actions.

You Cannot Know, Should I Discribe To You; The Feelings Of A Parent . . . . Four Years Have Already Past Away Since You Left Your Native Land, And This Rural Cottage-humble Indeed, When Compared To The Palaces You Have Visited, And The Pomp You Have Been Witness To. But I Dare Say You Have Not Been So Inattentive An Observer, As To Suppose That Sweet Peace, And Contentment, Cannot Inhabit The Lowly Roof, And Bless The Tranquil Inhabitants, Equally Guarded And Protected, In Person And Property, In This Happy Country, As Those Who Reside In The Most Elegant And Costly Dwellings.