TO JOHN ADAMS.
Weymouth, Sunday Evening, 14 September, 1767.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
The Doctor talks of setting out to-morrow for New
Braintree. I did not know but that he might chance
to see you in his way there. I know from the tender
affection you bear me and our little ones, that
you will rejoice to hear that we are well. Our son
is much better than when you left home, and our
daughter rocks him to sleep with the song of "Come,
papa, come home to brother Johnny." Sunday seems
a more lonely day to me than any other when you
are absent; for, though I may be compared to those
climates which are deprived of the sun half the
year, yet upon a Sunday you commonly afforded us
your benign influence. I am now at Weymouth, my
father brought me here last night; to-morrow I return
home, where I hope soon to receive the dearest
of friends, and the tenderest of husbands, with that
unabated affection which has for years past, and will
whilst the vital spark lasts, burn in the bosom of your
affectionate
