1974. DEATH, Blighted by.—
The part
you take in my loss makes an affectionate
concern for the greatness of it. It is great in
deed. Others may lose of their abundance,
but I, of my want, have lost even the half of
all I had. My evening prospects now hang
on the slender thread of a single life. Perhaps
I may be destined to see even this last
cord of parental affection broken. The hope
with which I had looked forward to the moment,
when, resigning public cares to younger
hands, I was to retire to that domestic comfort
from which the last step is to be taken, is
fearfully blighted.—
To John Page. Washington ed. iv, 547.
(W.
1804)
