man, said my wife, for God's sake let it be kept a profound secret
among us; if it were once known abroad that thee writest to a great
and rich man over at London, there would be no end of the talk of
the people; some would vow that thee art going to turn an author,
others would pretend to foresee some great alterations in the
welfare of thy family; some would say this, some would say that: Who
would wish to become the subject of public talk? Weigh this matter
well before thee beginnest, James--consider that a great deal of thy
time, and of thy reputation is at stake as I may say. Wert thee to
write as well as friend Edmund, whose speeches I often see in our
papers, it would be the very self same thing; thee wouldst be
equally accused of idleness, and vain notions not befitting thy
condition. Our colonel would be often coming here to know what it is
that thee canst write so much about. Some would imagine that thee
wantest to become either an assembly-man or a magistrate, which God
forbid; and that thee art telling the king's men abundance of
things. Instead of being well looked upon as now, and living in
peace with all the world, our neighbours would be making strange
surmises: I had rather be as we are, neither better nor worse than
the rest of our country folks. Thee knowest what I mean, though I
should be sorry to deprive thee of any honest recreation. Therefore
as I have said before, let it be as great a secret as if it was some
heinous crime; the minister, I am sure, will not divulge it; as for
my part, though I am a woman, yet I know what it is to be a wife.--I
would not have thee, James, pass for what the world calleth a
writer; no, not for a peck of gold, as the saying is. Thy father
before thee was a plain dealing honest man, punctual in all things;
he was one of yea and nay, of few words, all he minded was his farm
and his work. I wonder from whence thee hast got this love of the
pen? Had he spent his time in sending epistles to and fro, he never