Cambridge
June 2^nd, 1775

My dear Fruition —

We are come at last to Cambridge & the Great Encampment.

Receiving yesterday our Orders to march here, we broke Camp in Dulwich & marched the Day through, & now are favored with our first View of our Patriot Headquarters. We have been but in the Provinces of Freedom; & now are come into its Heart.

Fruition — it is not to be imagined. ’Tis perpetual Activity here, joyful almost in its Bustle — with the wide Avenues of this Town, the fair Mansions, their Gardens & Arbors & Parterres overrun with fine New England Rebels — on the Common, Tents — if some could be called Tents — nay, Blankets hanged on Poles, Kerchiefs strung up with Baling Twine, Shacks bound together of Sumac, & mobbing it all (Faith! Would you could see it! The Blessed Confusion of it!) thus: New Hampshire Men in Deerskin Leggings & Connecticut Men shaving in the Trees & Pocket Orators preaching Government in overbig Hats & Stockbridge Indians stalking among us painted & Farmers in their Blouses hefting Blunderbusses & Fathers and Sons enjoying Jests together, burning Toast or Syrup on the Fire —

Our Spirits is in a continual Ferment.

The Lord expounds here upon Variety.

We have builded our Camp anew, & as it saith in Genesis, “I dwell in the Tents of Shem.” Now we wait simply for Engagement, & hear continual Word that Gen. Gage shall march from out the Town and try to whelm us all.

Boston sits upon the Water, & is Unknown; & we await for it to vomit forth its Hordes, which makes a Man uneven in temperament. ’Twould be no little Piece of Foolishness for the Regulars to delay Attack upon us much longer, as we strengthen every Day, with Addition of new Companies, adding Numbers to Zeal.

This Waiting is terrible, & the Men would be most gratified by Word from their Families,

as you have received from your brother,

Ev.