University of Virginia Library

TO JOHN ADAMS.

This, I hope, is the last letter which you will receive
from me at Quincy. The funeral rites performed, I
prepare to set out on the morrow. I long to leave a
place, where every scene and object wears a gloom,
or looks so to me. My agitated mind wants repose,
I have twice the present week met my friends and
relatives, and taken leave of them in houses of
mourning. I have asked, "Was all this necessary to
wean me from the world? Was there danger of
my fixing a too strong attachment upon it? Has
it any allurements, which could make me forget,
that here I have no abiding-place?" All, all is undoubtedly
just and right. Our aged parent is gone
to rest. [1] My mind is relieved from any anxiety on
her account. I have no fears lest she should be left
alone, and receive an injury. I have no apprehensions,

that she should feel any want of aid or assistance,
or fear of becoming burdensome. She fell
asleep, and is happy.

Mary, [2] in the prime of life, when, if ever, it is
desirable, became calm, resigned, and willing to
leave the world. She made no objection to her sister's
going, or to mine, but always said she should go
first.

I have received your letters of April 16th and
19th. I want no courting to come. I am ready
and willing to follow my husband wherever he
chooses; but the hand of Heaven has arrested me.
Adieu, rny dear friend. Excuse the melancholy
strain of my letter. From the abundance of the
heart the stream flows.