ortune of many to live distant from the scene of
sorrow; the evil is not sufficiently brought to THEIR doors to make
THEM feel the precariousness with which all American property is
possessed. But let our imaginations transport us for a few moments to
Boston, that seat of wretchedness will teach us wisdom, and instruct
us for ever to renounce a power in whom we can have no trust. The
inhabitants of that unfortunate city, who but a few months ago were
in ease and affluence, have now, no other alternative than to stay
and starve, or turn out to beg. Endangered by the fire of their
friends if they continue within the city, and plundered by the
soldiery if they leave it. In their present condition they are
prisoners without the hope of redemption, and in a general attack for
their relief, they would be exposed to the fury of both armies.

Men of passive tempers look somewhat lightly over the offences of
Britain, and, still hoping for the best, are apt to call out, "COME,
COME, WE SHALL BE FRIENDS AGAIN, FOR ALL THIS." But examine the
passions and feelings of mankind, Bring the doctrine of
reconciliation to the touchstone of nature, and then tell me, whether
you can hereafter love, honour, and faithfully serve the power that
hath carried fire and sword into your land? If you cannot do all
these, then are you only deceiving yourselves, and by your delay
bringing ruin upon posterity. Your future connection with Britain,
whom you can neither love nor honour, will be forced and unnatural,
and being formed only on the plan of present convenience, will in a
little time fall into a relapse more wretched than the first. But if
you say, you can still pass the violations over, then I ask, Hath
your house been burnt? Hath your property been destroyed before your
face? Are your wife and children destitute of a bed to lie on, or
bread to live on? Have you lost a parent or a child by their hands,
and yourself the ruined and wretched survivor? If you have not, then
are you not a judge of those who have. But if you have, and still can
shake hands with the murderers, then you are unworthy of the name of
husband, father, friend, or lover, and whatever may be your rank or
title in life, you have the heart of a coward, and the spirit of a
sycophant.

This is not inflaming or exaggerating matters, but trying them by
those feelings and affections which nature justifies, and without
which, we should be incapable of discharging the social duties