 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO JOHN ADAMS.
How lonely are my days? how solitary are my
nights? secluded from all society but my two little
boys and my domestics. By the mountains of snow
which surround me, I could almost fancy myself in
Greenland. We have had four of the coldest days
I ever knew, and they were followed by the severest
snow-storm I ever remember. The wind, blowing
like a hurricane for fifteen or twenty hours, rendered
it impossible for man or beast to live abroad, and has
blocked up the roads so that they are impassable.
A week ago I parted with my daughter, at the request
of our Plymouth friends, to spend a month with them;
so that I am solitary indeed.
Can the best of friends recollect, that for fourteen
years past I have not spent a whole winter alone.
Some part of the dismal season has heretofore been
participation of the friend of my youth.
How insupportable the idea, that three thousand
miles and the vast ocean now divide us! but divide
only our persons, for the heart of my friend is in the
bosom of his partner. More than half a score of
years has so riveted it there, that the fabric which
contains it must crumble into dust ere the particles
can be separated; for
And our beings blend."
I cannot describe to you how much I was affected
the other day with a Scotch song, which was sung
to me by a young lady in order to divert a melancholy
hour; but it had quite a different effect, and
the native simplicity of it had all the power of a well-wrought
tragedy. When I could conquer my sensibility
I begged the song, and Master Charles has
learned it, and consoles his mamma by singing it to
her. I will enclose it to you. It has beauties in it
to me, which an indifferent person would not feel
perhaps.
As he comes up the stairs."
How oft has my heart danced to the sound of that
music?
And shall I hear him speak?"
Gracious Heaven! hear and answer my daily petition,
by banishing all my grief.
I am sometimes quite discouraged from writing.
So many vessels are taken, that there is little chance
of a letter's reaching your hands. That I meet with
so few returns, is a circumstance that lies heavy at
my heart. If this finds its way to you, it will go by
the Alliance. By her I have written before. She
has not yet sailed, and I love to amuse myself with
my pen, and pour out some of the tender sentiments
of a heart overflowing with affection, not for the eye
of a cruel enemy, who, no doubt, would ridicule
every humane and social sentiment, long ago grown
callous to the finer sensibilities, but for the sympathetic
heart that beats in unison with
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |