University of Virginia Library

To-day, my dear sister, I have determined upon
tarrying at home, in hopes of seeing my son
or his papa; but, from a hint dropped by Mr. Murray,
I rather think it will be my son, as political
reasons will prevent Mr. Adams's journey here.
Whilst I am writing, a servant in the family runs
puffing in, as if he were really interested in the matter;
"Young Mr. Adams is come." "Where, where
is he?" we all cried out. "In the other house,
Madam; he stopped to get his hair dressed." Impatient
enough I was; yet, when he entered, we had so
many strangers, that I drew back, not really believing
my eyes, till he cried out, "O, my mamma
and my dear sister!" Nothing but the eyes, at first
sight, appeared what he once was. His appearance
is that of a man, and in his countenance the most
perfect good humor; his conversation by no means
denies his stature. I think you do not approve the
word feelings, but I know not what to substitute in
lieu, or even to describe mine. His sister, he says,
he should have known in any part of the world.

Mr. Adams chooses I should come to the Hague
and travel with him from thence; and says it is the
first journey he ever looked forward to with pleasure,
since he came abroad. I wish to set out on Friday;
but, as we are obliged to purchase a carriage, and
many other matters to do, Master John thinks we
cannot go until the Tuesday after. In the mean
time, I shall visit the curiosities of the city; not

feeling twenty years younger, as my best friend says
he does, but feeling myself exceedingly matronly
with a grown up son on one hand, and daughter
upon the other, and, were I not their mother, I would
say a likelier pair you will seldom see in a summer's
day. You must supply words where you find them
wanting, and imagine what I have left unfinished,
for my letter is swelled to such a bulk that I have
not even time to peruse it. Mr. Smith goes to-morrow
morning, and I must now close, requesting you to
make the distribution of the little matters I send, as
directed. Tell Dr. Tufts, my dear and valued uncle
and friend, that I design to write to him by the next
vessel.

Particularly remember me to uncle Quincy, to
Mrs. Quincy and Nancy, and to all my dear Boston
friends. Tell Mr. Storer, that Charles is very good
to me, and that, walking with Abby, the other day,
she was taken for his wife. Ask him if he consents.
Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson treat me like a sister. I cannot
find myself in a strange land. I shall experience
this, when I get to a country the language of which
I cannot speak. I sincerely wish the treaty might
have been concerted here. I have a partiality for
this country; but, where my treasure is, there shall
my heart go.

I know not when to close; you must write often
to me, and get uncle Smith to cover to Mr. Atkinson;
then, wherever I am, the letters will come safe.

Adieu, once more, my dear sister, and believe me