who is Able to help him, & if he so behaves as to be worthy yr Notice I shall not be sorry he did not ask my Advice. I have this Spring been new planking the yard made New gate, & new Cedar Dores, & am Painting the Front of the House to make it look Decent that I may not be Ashamed when any Boddy Inquiers for Dr Franklins Sister in the Neibourhood.
I tell you these things that you may see I do Injoy Life hear, but Truly my Dear Brother I am willing to Depart out of it when ever my Grat Benifactor has no farther Use for me, for tho but Litle of that Apears to me now, I know the most Insignificant creature on Earth may be made some Use of in the Scale of Beings, may Touch some Spring, or Verge to some wheel unpercived by us.
but oh may I not Live to hear of the Departure of My Dear Brother
There is a good deal of Phylosephy in the working of crown soap that I cant comprehend the coular was taken out of wonside of this Green cake by laying on a Damp won and by Drying will not Recover it
Per Captn Cob
with a Box at Hews and Antonys
[Here first printed from a copy, in another hand, in the Yale University Library. The Misses Clifton were three sisters, "all very handsome . . . the children of a wealthy English apothecary." The Autobiography of Benjamin Rush, 1949, edited by G. W. Corner, p. 295. There is a letter from Anna Maria Clifton to Franklin, March 4, 1777, in the American Philosophical Society. She was the last survivor of the three sisters, and died April 13, 1790, in her seventieth year. All three of them were close friends of the Franklins and Baches. When the Baches left Philadelphia before the advance of the British, Sarah Bache sent her most valuable possessions to "Miss Clifton," including Franklin's "little black trunk." See Sarah Bache's letter to her father, March 29, 1780, in the American Philosophical Society.]