University of Virginia Library

TO CAROLINE A. SMITH.

Your neat, pretty letter, looking small, but containing
much, reached me this day. I have a good mind
to give you the journal of the day.

Six o'clock. Rose, and, in imitation of his Britannic
Majesty, kindled my own fire. Went to the
stairs, as usual, to summon George and Charles.
Returned to my chamber, dressed myself. No one
stirred. Called a second time, with voice a little
raised.

Seven o'clock. Blockheads not out of bed. Girls
in motion. Mean, when I hire another man-servant,
that he shall come for one call.

Eight o'clock. Fires made, Breakfast prepared.
L—in Boston. Mrs. A. at the tea-board.
Forgot the sausages. Susan's recollection brought
them upon the table.

Enter Ann. "Ma'am, the man is come with
coal." "Go, call George to assist him." [Exit Ann.

Enter Charles. "Mr. B—is come with cheese,
turnips, &c. Where are they to be put?" "I will
attend to him myself." [Exit Charles.

Just seated at the table again.

Enter George with "Ma'am, here is a man with
drove of pigs." A consultation is held upon this important
subject, the result of which is the purchase of
two spotted swine.

Nine o'clock. Enter Nathaniel, from the upper
house, with a message for sundries; and black
Thomas's daughter, for sundries. Attended to all
these concerns. A little out of sorts that I could not
finish my breakfast. Note; never to be incommoded
with trifles.

Enter George Adams, from the post-office,—a
large packet from Russia, and from the valley also.
Avaunt, all cares,—I put you all aside,—and thus
I find good news from a far country,—children,
grandchildren all well. I had no expectation of hearing
from Russia this winter, and the pleasure was
the greater to obtain letters of so recent a date, and

to learn that the family were all in health. For this
blessing give I thanks.

At twelve o'clock, by a previous engagement, I
was to call at Mr. G—'s, for cousin B. Smith to
accompany me to the bridge at Quincy-port, being
the first day of passing it. The day was pleasant;
the scenery delightful. Passed both bridges, and
entered Hingham. Returned before three o'clock.
Dined and,

At five, went to Mr. T. G—'s, with your grandfather;
the third visit he has made with us in the
week; and let me whisper to you he played at whist
with Mr. J. G—, who was as ready and accurate
as though he had both eyes to see with. Returned.

At nine, sat down and wrote a letter.

At eleven, retired to bed. We do not so every
week. I tell it you as one of the marvels of the age.
By all this, you will learn that grandmother has got
rid of her croaking, and that grandfather is in good
health, and that both of us are as tranquil as that bald
old fellow, called Time, will let us be.

And here I was interrupted in my narrative.

I re-assume my pen upon the 22d of November,
being this day sixty-eight years old. How many reflections
occur to me upon this anniversary!

What have I done for myself or others in this
long period of my sojourn, that I can look back upon
with pleasure, or reflect upon with approbation?
Many, very many follies and errors of judgment and
conduct rise up before me, and ask forgiveness of
that Being, who seeth into the secret recesses of the

heart, and from whom nothing is hidden. I think I
may with truth say, that in no period of my life
have the vile passions had control over me. I bear
no enmity to any human being; but, alas! as Mrs.
Placid said to her friend, by which of thy good
works wouldst thou be willing to be judged? I do
not believe, with some divines, that all our good
works are but as filthy rags; the example which our
great Master has set before us, of purity, benevolence,
obedience, submission and humility, are virtues
which, if faithfully practised, will find their reward;
or why has he pronounced so many benedictions
upon them in his sermon on the mount? I would
ask with the poet,

I am one of those who are willing to rejoice always.
My disposition and habits are not of the gloomy kind.
I believe that "to enjoy is to obey."

I have many more subjects, dear Caroline, which
I want to write to you upon.

Yesterday was our Thanksgiving day. In our
own way, and with tempers suited to the occasion,
we gave thanks for those blessings which we felt
had been granted to us in the year past, for the
restoration and recovery from dangerous sickness of
members of our own family; and, although in one instance
we had been called to weep, in many others
we had cause of rejoicing. We were in health; we
had good news from a far country; we had food and
raiment, and we still enjoyed liberty, and our rulers
were men of our own election, and removable by
the people. Dear Caroline, I have trespassed upon
you. I will close by saying, that your uncle and
aunt, with their three children, your aunt Smith,
George and John Adams, with our own family,
made the joyful group. We remembered the absent,
and sent our wishes to Russia and the valley;
but wishes were empty.—No, they bore upon their
wings blessings, a portion of which were for my dear
Caroline,