Philadelphia Jan 9th. 98  Wednesday Eve.
My dear aunt
So far I have written this half hour, but I have a bad head ache, & the spirit doth not moveth me to write. Although I have nothing to entertain or amuse you still as I have begun I am resolved to finish the letter. In thus doing I do but follow the example of many celebrated poets and philosophers who have written, not letters only, but volumes, on nothing.
I have read in the Centinel with pleasure some extracts from a thanksgiveing sermon <
were> which is said to have been delivered in the neighborhood of Boston. Both the president & myself wish to know the author, they are excellent. I suspect it is Mr. Mackean of Milton.
I have not sent you Porcupines papers this some time—The reason is, it has not been worth sending. I hope you still continue to receive the papers regularly; though there has not been any thing in them scarcely worth your reading.
Thomas Jefferson, (this is what he calls himself) dines here to day with a number of others.
The president is very well & in very good spirits, though perplexed & harrassed to death.
I am my dear Aunt your / verry affectionate nephew
W. S. S.
MHi: Adams Papers.