in which we are engaged; but, to think of a friend's sacrificing
himself, without any valuable end being answered by it, is painful
beyond expression. _You will die; I know you will die in the
undertaking; it is impossible for you to endure the fatigue._ I am so
exercised about your going, that I should come and see you if I had
not got the Scriptural excuse,--a wife, and cannot come.

My dear friend, you must not go: I cannot bear the thoughts of it.
'Tis little less melancholy than following you to your grave.

Your affectionate friend,

JAMES COGSWELL.



FROM PETER COLT.

Watertown, 11th September, 1775.

I cannot retire to rest till I have written you a few lines, to excuse
my casting so many discouragements in the way of your journey to
Quebec. At first I did not think it so hazardous; but, upon inquiring
of those who had more knowledge of the country, thought it too
fatiguing an undertaking for one of your years; and I find it
altogether against the sentiments of your friends. I think you might
be fairly excused, without the risk of being reported as timid, as the
hopes of your family depend in a great degree upon you. I should have
rejoiced to see you relinquish this expedition; but, as you are
determined to pursue it, must beg you not to let any thing we have