July 5th 1776 By Ernest Winchester Copyright 2011 By Ernest Winchester Smashwords Edition, License Notes This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you enjoy this story, please return to Smashwords.com to find other works by this author. Thank you for your support. July 5th 1776 My dearest, darling Martha, It is with bleary vision and unsteady hand that I sit here composing this letter to you this morning, or rather early afternoon, for it was a rather late night of revelry among the congressmen here in Philadelphia. As you know we have a rather eclectic assembly of assorted individuals gathered here for the occasion and they spent last evening in a most unseemly comportment. The highlight of the evening was a rather humorous presentation by that comedic producer of tomes, Thomas Jefferson. He proposed, in rather portentous script, that we, the assembled group representing the thirteen colonies, should declare ourselves independent from the British Empire. Well, as you can imagine, that produced quite a humorous arousal within the multitude. Even the indomitable elder statesman, Ben Franklin, dislodged the serving wench from his lap to raise his tankard at the hilarity of it. I am sure he thinks of himself as a lad of seventeen again instead of seventy, the way he carries on with the damsels here in Philadelphia’s ale houses and taverns. The old boy seems to become quite unruly when he is away from his home hearth. Now, as you very well know my dear Martha, there is no more loyal subject of the crown than your humble servant and I sincerely hope that you disregard any of the malicious rumors that have sullied my good name regarding the events of last year in Boston. The respected General Gage, who I must refer to as a dolt, though only between you and I my dear, completely misunderstood my principled intentions and withdrew from the city before he could avail himself and his troops at the banquet I and my subordinates had arranged. I don’t know where he and his army command are off to, but I hope we can meet again on more understanding circumstances. I fear he may have left in a pique. But back to the events of yester evening; in the midst of all the commotion, a rather young chap, Nathan Hale I believe his name is, arose quite unsteadily, and blurted out, “I’ll be hanged if the proposal isn’t adopted.” I’m sure it was the contents of his mug that slurred his lips and tongue and that he only meant to say, “I’ll be danged…” As the evening wore on, the assembly became ever more boisterous and the president attempted to gavel in the rowdy behavior, declaring he would put his John Hancock on the tab for the evening to that point, but no more. Of course he could be generous, it’s only the colony’s money after all. I do fear that the president may be setting a precedent regarding facial irresponsibility, but I trust that can be dealt with in the future. And mentioning the ale consumed, I only wish that I had provided more of my own distilled spirits for the occasion, for the ale served at this establishment is quite dreadful. You know how loving and accommodating I become after a tankard of my own refined concoction and I can actually smile, despite my ill-fitting teeth. But now in a more sober light of day, I must express fear that the declaration, as so many are already referring to it, will be misinterpreted and a greater fear unnerves me that it might come into the hands of the honorable British councils and therefore passed on to the officials on the other side of the Atlantic. My concern is that they may not see it as it was intended, a mere attempt at bacchanalian humor. Imagine the folly, our pitiful stretch of coastline colonies sandwiched in the midst of the Spanish to the south, the wilderness to the west, and the Tories to the north, each with dangerous canines poised like daggers at us. Surely that would be a disastrous position in which to find ourselves. Well, my dear I must close for I hear the renewed revelry in the hall below and I must do my best to control the boisterous tribe before it gets totally out of hand as it did before when they dressed as Indians and held the another party in Boston. In case you may not have heard of it, think little of it, for it was nothing but a bit of spilt tea. I can only think of you and keep you warmly in my heart, anxious to return eagerly to your loving arms and our inviting bed. Do keep it warm, for you know how I abhor sleeping in all those other dreadful places. Yours truly, George (but not the third.)