Chapter One
The Road to Philadelphia
You cannot be, I know, nor do I wish to see you, an inactive
spectator....We have too many high sounding words, and too few actions that
correspond with them.
— Abigail Adams
I
In the cold, nearly colorless light of a New England winter, two men on
horseback traveled the coast road below Boston, heading north. A foot or more of
snow covered the landscape, the remnants of a Christmas storm that had blanketed
Massachusetts from one end of the province to the other. Beneath the snow, after
weeks of severe cold, the ground was frozen solid to a depth of two feet. Packed
ice in the road, ruts as hard as iron, made the going hazardous, and the riders,
mindful of the horses, kept at a walk.
Nothing about the harsh landscape differed from other winters. Nor was there
anything to distinguish the two riders, no signs of rank or title, no liveried
retinue bringing up the rear. It might have been any year and they could have
been anybody braving the weather for any number of reasons. Dressed as they were
in heavy cloaks, their hats pulled low against th ... read full excerpt from: John Adams ebook
