This Day I have committed (Solderd in a Tin Case for Safety) to the Care of the Post Office—The Locket—Which I have Twice appriz’d Your Excellency of and which make no Doubt have come safe to Hand—This the Case It certainly must be Needless to Say More—or Repeat what has been Urg’d, to Intrust Your Excellency’s Good Offices in My Behalf Certain as it is. I have no Improper Motives—Without the Endeavouring to Extricate Myself from the Consequences of a Ruinous and Destructive War—can be deem’d so—This I am certain cannot in the Eyes of Your Excellency—Therefore it is, I have laid the law fairly Open, and as in the First Letter I pointed out the Mode of Acquiring Your Excellency’s Opinion of it Indirectly—So with Submissions now, I wish to do the Same—And for the Same Reasons—If Your Excellency—as a Connoisseur can Examine This Matter—with a Small Degree of complacency—If I could know it—I should be pleasd—Your Excellency will perceive I have endeavourd to Imitate the Order of Le St. Esprit—in Seed Pearl—How far I have succeeded—say not—as It is, found some Difficulty of Making it Even Thus—The Enamel beneath This Attempt of the Order—is purposely contrivd of a Heavy Colour—Intentionally to Relieve the Better The Pearle—But Yet not quite so Opaque—But that a Star of Fleur de Lis     interspers’d with a Bright Tool may be perceiv’d—Now I wish to say a word to Your Excellency on the Subject of the Allegory—And then Conclude—The Figure a Tirre is meant the Recent Situation of America—Her Shield and Bow not yet Grasp’d—means not Despondency—But the Then Undisciplind State of Her Armies—Behind Her is Gallia—in The Character of Minerva—Generously come to Her Assistance and Gently raising Her from the Attempts of a Lady—Who—“In the Hour of Her Insolence Had for Herself—Her Zone is touch’d as a Scotch Plaid your Excellency presume knows Why—I have intimated the Interference of Providence—By Stricking the Ensign Staff on the Cattle supposd to be the Standard—with a Touch Etherial—Thereby to Finish the Whole, And Ultimately to Ascribe to the Supreme Ruler of the Universe—The Accomplishment of His Persons—If I have fallen Short—in Manner—or Matter—I hope your Excellency will place it to The Head—not the Heart—But condescendling Accept The Presenting—And Present It—as the Widows Mite—And Here with That Unfeigned Respect—(not with a Parade of Words) Which I beg Your Excellency I take My Epistolary Leave—Unfeignedly wishing that after a Long Series of Years of Mental Peace and Uninterrupted Health—Universally Beloved, and Venerated, That When the Moment Shall Arrive—That Time to Your Excellency Shall be no More—The Removal may be by a Gentle Stroke of Fate—Leaving this Sordid State of Things—to Those Who seem better calculated to Enjoy Them Than Your Excellency—And gain Admittance into That State of Beatitude, We are Taught to Expect from a Life so Usefully, and Honorably Spent as That of Your Excellency’s—And That it may be so—is the First and the Last Wish—of Your Excellencys Unfeigned Humble Servant