 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO MRS. SHAW.
I was unable to reply to my dear sister's letter of
May 19th when I received it, being visited by St.
Anthony, who scourged me most cruelly. I am sure
I wished well to the Spanish patriots, in their late
struggle for liberty, and I bore no ill-will to those
whose tutelar saint, thus unprovoked, beset me. I wish
he had been preaching to the fishes, who, according
to tradition, have been his hearers; for so ill did he
use me, that I came very near losing my senses. I
think he must be a very bigoted saint, a favorer of
the Inquisition, and a tyrant. If such are the penances
of saints, I hope to hold no further intercourse
with them. For four days and nights my face was
seemed as though my blood boiled. Until the third
day, when I sent for the doctor, I knew not what
the matter was. It confined me for ten days. My
face is yet red; but I rode out to-day, and feel
much better. I think a little journey would be of
service to me; but I find, as years and infirmities
increase, my courage and enterprise diminish. Ossian
says, "Age is dark and unlovely." When I
look in my glass, I do not much wonder at the story
related of a very celebrated painter, Zeuxis, who, it
is said, died of laughing at a comical picture he had
made of an old woman. If our glass flatters us in
youth, it tells us truths in age. The cold hand of
death has frozen up some of the streams of our early
friendships; the congelation is gaining upon our
vital powers, and marking us for the tomb. "May
we so number our days as to apply our hearts unto
wisdom."
When my family was young around me, I used to
find more leisure, and think I could leave it with less
anxiety than I can now. There is not any occasion
for detailing the whys and the wherefores. It is
said, if riches increase, those increase that eat them;
but what shall we say, when the eaters increase
without the wealth? You know, my dear sister, if
there be bread enough, and to spare, unless a prudent
attention manage that sufficiency, the fruits of
diligence will be scattered by the hand of dissipation.
the consent and coöperation of his wife. It behoves
us, who are parents or grandparents, to give our
daughters and granddaughters, when their education
devolves upon us, such an education as shall qualify
them for the useful and domestic duties of life, that
they should learn the proper use and improvement
of time, since "time was given for use, not waste."
The finer accomplishments, such as music, dancing,
and painting, serve to set off and embellish the picture;
but the groundwork must be formed of more
durable colors.
I consider it as an indispensable requisite, that
every American wife should herself know how to
order and regulate her family; how to govern her
domestics, and train up her children. For this purpose,
the all-wise Creator made woman an help-meet
for man, and she who fails in these duties does not
answer the end of her creation.
They that have none must make them, or be wretched.
Cares are employments, and, without employ,
The soul is on a rack, the rack of rest."
I have frequently said to my friends, when they
have thought me overburdened with care, I would
rather have too much than too little. Life stagnates
without action. I could never bear merely to vegetate;
Has your son sent you or his sister the "Letters
from the Mountains? "I think them the finest selection
of letters which I have ever read. You may
with safety recommend them to all your young female
friends. I cannot find in them any principle, either
of morals, manners, or religion, to which I cannot
most heartily subscribe. Read them, and give me
your opinion of them. Adieu.
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |