RETURN TO PRIVATE LIFE.

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Those were stormy days, and it required great wisdom safely to navigate the ship of state. The excitement which the French Revolution created in this country, as the community ranged themselves on the side of England or of France, was intense. For four years Mr. Adams struggled through almost a constant tempest of assaults. He was never a popular man. The party arrayed against him, with the Vice-President at its head, was powerful in numbers, and still more powerful in ability. He was not a man of conciliatory manners or of winning speech. After four years of harassment, which must have been the four least happy years of his life, he was mortified by losing a reëlection. Jefferson was chosen President; and Aaron Burr, Vice-President; and John Adams was left to return to his farm at Quincy. His chagrin was so great as to lead him to the lamentable mistake of refusing to remain in Philadelphia to witness the inauguration of his successful rival. There ensued a breach in the friendship of these illustrious men which was not closed for thirteen years.

About the time of Mr. Adams' retirement, his eldest son, who was married and settled in New York, suddenly died, leaving to his father's care a wife and two infant children. He then spoke of this event as the deepest affliction of his life. He was then sixty-six years of age. A quarter of a century still remained to him before he died. He generally avoided all public gatherings, and took little part in political questions, devoting his time mainly to the cultivation of his farm. When England, looking contemptuously upon our feeble navy, persisted in the outrage of searching American ships, both John Adams and his son, John Quincy, nobly supported the policy of Mr. Jefferson in resenting these outrages. It seems strange that a man could be found in America willing to submit to such insolence. But for this Mr. Adams was bitterly accused of being recreant to his principles, and of joining the party who were charged with seeking an excuse for dragging our country into a war against England, that we might thus aid France. On this occasion John Adams, for the first time since his retirement, broke silence, and drew up a very able paper, exposing the atrocity of the British pretensions. Mr. Adams had been associated with a party hostile to France, and in favor of submission to the British pretensions. In advocating resistance, he was regarded as abandoning his old friends, and with bitter animosity was he assailed.

MR. ADAMS' HOME LIFE.

In 1818, when Mr. Adams was eighty-two years of age, his noble wife, who had shared with him the joys and griefs of more than half a century, died, at the age of seventy-four. The event threw over him a shade of sadness which never disappeared. A gentleman who visited Quincy a year or two before her death gave a description of the interview. Mr. Adams was, in body, very infirm, tottering and shaking with age; but his mind seemed as vigorous, and his heart as

young, as ever. There was a boy's joyousness and elasticity in his hearty laugh. He joked, was full of fun, and talked about everybody and everything with the utmost freedom and abandon. His knowledge seemed to his visitor boundless; for he was equally at home upon whatever subject might be introduced. Nothing could be more entertaining than his conversation, it was so replete with anecdote and lively sallies of wit.

While thus conversing, Mrs. Adams came in,—a tall and stately lady of rather formal address. "A cap of exquisite lace surrounded features still exhibiting intellect and energy. Her dress was snowy white, and there was that

immaculate neatness in her appear

ance which gives to age almost the sweetness of youth. With less warmth of manner and sociableness than Mr. Adams, she was sufficiently gracious, and her occasional remarks betrayed intellectual vigor and strong sense. The guest went away, feeling that he should never again behold such living specimens of the 'great old.'"

While his drooping frame and feeble step and dimmed eye showed the ravages of years, Mr. Adams' mind retained its wonted vigor. He read until his vision failed, and was then read to, many hours every day. He

loved, in conversation with his friends, to recall the scenes of his younger

years, and to fight his battles over again. His son, John Quincy, rose to distinction, and occupied high posts of honor at home and abroad.

In

1825 his parental pride was gratified by the elevation of his son to the chair which the father had honored as President of the United States. When John Quincy Adams received a note from Rufus King, informing him of his election, he inclosed it to his father, with the following lines from his own pen, under date of February 9, 1825—

MY DEAR AND HONORED FATHER :-The inclosed note from Mr. King will inform you of the event of this day; upon which I can only offer you my congratulations, and ask your blessing and prayers. Your affectionate and dutiful son,

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

DEATH OF ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.

89

John Adams was now ninety years of age. His enfeebled powers indicated that his end was drawing nigh. The 4th of July, 1826, came. The nation had made arrangements for a more than usually brilliant celebration of that anniversary. Adams and Jefferson still lived. It was hoped that they might be brought together, at some favored spot, as the nation's guests. But, as the time drew near, it was evident that neither of them could bear a journey. On Friday morning, the 30th of June, a gentleman called upon Mr. Adams to obtain a toast to be presented on the 4th of July at the celebration at Quincy. "I give you," said he, "Independence forever."

He was now rapidly declining. On the morning of the 4th his physician judged that he would scarcely survive the day. There was the ringing of bells, the exultant music of martial bands, the thunders of artillery from ships and forts, from hills and valleys, echoing all over our land, as rejoicing millions welcomed the natal day of the nation. Mr. Adams, upon his dying couch, listened to these sourds of joy with silent emotion. Do you know what day it is?" some one inquired. “Oh, yes!" he replied: "it is the glorious 4th of July. God bless it! God bless you all! It is a great and glorious day." "Thomas Jefferson," he murmured at a later hour to himself, "still survives." These were his last words. But he was mistaken. An hour or two before, the spirit of Jefferson had taken its flight. The sands of his own long and memorable life were now run out, and gently he passed away into that sleep from which there is no earthly waking.