 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.
Had you been no other than the private inhabitant of
Monticello, I should, ere this time, have addressed
you with that sympathy which a recent event has
awakened in my bosom; but reasons of various kinds
withheld my pen, until the powerful feelings of my
heart burst through the restraint, and called upon me
to shed the tear of sorrow over the departed remains
of your beloved and deserving daughter. An event
which I most sincerely mourn.
The attachment which I formed for her, when
you committed her to my care upon her arrival
in a foreign land, under circumstances peculiarly
interesting, has remained with me to this hour;
and the account of her death, which I read in a
late paper, recalled to my recollection the tender
scene of her separation from me, when with the
strongest sensibility, she clung around my neck and
wet my bosom with her tears, saying, "Oh! now I
have learned to love you, why will they take me
from you."
It has been some time since I conceived that any
event in this life could call forth feelings of mutual
sympathy. But I know how closely entwined around
a parent's heart are those cords which bind the
parental to the filial bosom; and when snapped
asunder, how agonising the pangs. I have tasted of
the bitter cup and bow with reverence and submission
before the great Dispenser of it, without whose permission
and overruling Providence, not a sparrow
falls to the ground. That you may derive comfort
and consolation in this day of your sorrow and affliction
from that only source calculated to heal the
wounded heart, a firm belief in the being, perfections
and attributes of God, is the sincere and ardent
wish of her, who once took pleasure in subscribing
herself your friend
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |