ys in the same room with him, and two
soldiers without.
_October 10th._ Since my last, of the 6th, there has been no material
incident relative to Mr Henry Laurens's commitment; nor is the rigor
of his confinement abated. No person whatever can speak to him, but in
hearing and sight of the two attendant messengers. It is said, that
the Secretary of State's order will produce admittance to his room,
but nothing else. Some of his tory relations, and a Mr Manning, a
merchant of the city, and a correspondent of Mr Laurens, have made
attempts to speak to him, but did not succeed. He is wise enough to be
cautious whom he speaks to. It is generally thought that this rigor
will be taken off in a few days, and that his friends, who are now
backward for fear of any stir that may be disadvantageous to him, will
have admittance. Almost every person is crying out, shame upon this
sort of treatment of Mr Laurens.
_October 17th._ It was not until the 14th instant, that any person
whatever was permitted to see Mr Laurens in the Tower. On that day,
after repeated applications for admission, Mr Manning and Mr Laurens
junior, a youth of sixteen or eighteen years, who has been some years
at Warrington school, were permitted to see him. An order went signed
from the three Secretaries of State, Hillsborough, Stormont, and
Germain, to the Governor of the Tower, permitting the two gentlemen
above named to visit Mr Laurens for half an hour; the warrant
expressly intimating that their visit was to be limited to that time,
and that they could not, a second time, see him without a new order.
The Governor sent a note to Mr Manning, that he had received such an
order from the Secretaries of State, and he, with young Laurens, went
accordingly last Saturday morning. They found him very ill, much
emaciated, but not low spirited, and bitter against the people of
England for their harsh treatment of him. He spoke very handsomely of
Captain Keppel, who took him and the Lieutenant to London; but from
the period of putting his foot on shore, he was treated with a
brutality, which he could never expect from Englishmen.
His weakness from sickness, and his agitation on seeing his son, took
up the first ten of the thirty minutes allowed him to converse with
his friends. The rest was filled with bitter invectives against the
authors of his harsh treatment. His outer room is but a very mean one,
not more than twelve feet square, a dark, close bed-room adjoi
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