I received your kind Letter of the 12th Inst. inclosing one for Mr Philipe Vanhorn Physician in Philadelphia, which you desire me to deliver, and to solicit the Forgiveness of his Daughter. I immediately made Enquiry for him, as to be instrumental in so charitable a Work, in concurrence with you, would have given me great Pleasure, but I am assured by our oldest Inhabitants who have had most Acquaintance and best Opportunities of knowing their fellow Citizens, particularly some of our Physicians, that no Physician or other Person of that Name has ever been a Resident here; so that there must have been some Mistake in the Information that has been given you, if indeed the whole Story is not an Imposition.

You kindly enquire after my Health. I have not of late much reason to boast of it. People that will live a long Life and drink to the Bottom of the Cup [must?] expect to meet with some of the Dregs. However, when I consider how many more terrible [maladies?] the human Body is liable to, I think my self well off that I have only three incurable ones, the Gout, the Stone, and Old Age; and, those not withstanding, I enjoy many comfortable Intervals, in which I forget all my Ills, and amuse myself in Reading or Writing, or in Conversation with Friends, joking, laughing, and telling merry Stories, as when you first knew me, a young Man about Fifty.

My Children and Grand Children, the Baches, are all well, and pleased with your Remembrance of them. They are my Family, living in my House. And we have lately the Addition of a little good-natured Girl, whom I begin to love as well as the rest.

You tell me our poor Friend Ben. Kent is gone, I hope to the Regions of the Blessed; or at [least?] to some Place where Souls are prepared for those Regions! I found my Hope on this, that tho’ not so orthodox as you and I, he was an honest Man, and had his Virtues. If he had any Hypocrisy, it was of that inverted Kind, with which a Man is not so bad [as he?] seems to be. And with regard to future Blessings I cannot help imagining, that Multitudes of the zealously Orthodox of different Sects, who at the last Day may flock together, in hopes of seeing [torn] damn’d, will be disappointed, and oblig’d to rest content with their [own] Salvation.

You have [no Occasion?] to apologize for your former Letter. It was, [as all] yours are, very well written. That which it enclos’d for your Cousin came too late, he being sailed.

By one of the Accidents which War occasions, all my Books containing Copies of my Letters were lost. There were eight Volumes of them, and I have been able to recover only two. Those are of later Date than the Transaction you mention, and therefore can contain nothing relating to it. If the Letter you want a Copy of, was one in which I aim’d at consoling my Brother’s Friends, by a Comparison drawn from a Party of Pleasure intended into the Country, where we were all to meet, tho’ the Chair of one being soonest ready he set out before the rest; I say if this was the Letter, I fancy you may possibly find it in Boston, as I remember Mr Biles once wrote me that many Copies had been taken of it. I too should have been glad to have seen that again among those I had written to him and you: But you inform me they [torn] by the Mice. Poor little innocent Creatures; I am sorry they had no better Food. But since they like my Letters, here is another Treat for them.

Adieu, ma chere Enfant, and believe me [ever] Your affectionate Uncle