as yet unable to pay for and take the wool as they agreed, and we are on that account unable to close our business. This, with some trouble and perplexity, is the greatest injury we have suffered by it. We have had no winter as yet scarcely, the weather to-day being almost as warm as summer. We want to hear how you all are very much, and all about how you get along. I hope to visit you in the spring. Farewell.
Your affectionate, unworthy son,
John Brown.
Springfield, Mass., 5th Feb., 1849.
Dear Father,—I write you at this time more because you said in your last that you "love letters more now than ever before," than on account of anything I have to write. We are here all middling well, except our youngest child, who has been quite feeble since last fall. Owen's arm seems to be improving slowly. We have been selling wool middling fast of late, on contract, at 1847 prices. We have in this part of the country the strongest proofs that the great majority have made gold their hope, their only hope. I think that almost every product of industry will soon become high, from the fact alone that such a vast number of those who have hitherto been producers will cease to be so, and hereafter, for a time at least, be only consumers, I am inclined to think that persons who are in debt, and who hold any property of value, are likely to have a most favorable time to get out of debt. Would it not be well to have the word go round amongst all the Browns, that they may get ready to sell off enough of something to pay all debts? I really wish that Oliver and Frederick[1] would take the hint, and when things get up (which I feel confident they will do), go at once to selling off and paying up. There is no way of making money so easy as by selling when every one wants to buy. It may cost us some little sacrifice of feeling at first, but would open a new world almost, if thoroughly done.
I have felt a good deal of anxiety about the injury you received on your way home; was glad to hear that you was in any measure comfortable. I did not intend to put off writing so long; but I always find it exceedingly hard work to write when I have nothing to communicate that is worth as much as the paper and postage. Your letters are not of so barren a character; so that we shall not expect you to pay the postage when you write, which we hope will be often.
Your affectionate but unworthy son,
John Brown.
- ↑ His brothers, or cousins; not his sons.
