It would certainly, as you observe, be a very great Pleasure to
me, if I could once again visit my Native Town, and walk over the
Grounds I used to frequent when a Boy, and where I enjoyed many of
the innocent Pleasures of Youth, which would be so brought to my
Remembrance, and where I might find some of my old Acquaintance to
converse with. But when I consider how well I am situated here, with
every thing about me, that I can call either necessary or convenient;
the fatigues and bad accommodations to be met with and suffered in a
land journey, and the unpleasantness of sea voyages, to one, who,
although he has crossed the Atlantic eight times, and made many
smaller trips, does not recollect his having ever been at sea without
taking a firm resolution never to go to sea again; and that, if I
were arrived in Boston, I should see but little of it, as I could
neither bear walking nor riding in a carriage over its pebbled
streets; and, above all, that I should find very few indeed of my old
friends living, it being now sixty-five years since I left it to
settle here; -- all this considered, I say, it seems probable, though
not certain, that I shall hardly again visit that beloved place.
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