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and the occasion that assembled them, produced emotions not easily described, but which every American heart can readily conceive. As the steamboat moved off, the deepest silence was observed by the whole multitude that lined the shore. The feelings that pervaded them was that of children bidding farewell to a venerated parent.

When the boat came opposite the tomb of Washington, at Mount Vernon, it paused in its progress. La Fayette arose. The wonders which he had performed, for a man of his age, in successfully accomplishing labors enough to have tested his meridian vigor, whose animation rather resembled the spring than the winter of life, now seemed unequal to the task he was about to perform—to take a last look at “ The tomb of Washington!” He advanced to the effort. A silence the most impressive reigned around, till the strains of sweet and plaintive music completed the grandeur and sacred solemnity of the scene. All hearts beat in unison with the throbbings of the veteran's bosom, as he looked, for the last time, on the sepulchre which contained the ashes of the first of men! He spoke not, but appeared absorbed in the mighty recollections which the place and the occasion inspired.

After this scene, the boat resumed its course, and the next morning anchored in safety near the Brandywine. Here La Fayette took leave of the Secretaries of State, the Treasury, and the Navy, and the guests who had accompanied him from Washington, together with

many military and naval officers and eminent citizens who had assembled in various crafts near the frigate to bid him farewell. The weather had been boisterous and rainy, but just as the affecting scene had closed, the sun burst forth to cheer a spectacle which will long be remembered, and formed a magnificent arch, reaching from shore to shore-the barque which was to bear the venerable chief being immediately in the centre. Propitious omen! Heaven smiles on the good deeds of men! And if ever there was a sublime and virtuous action to be blessed by heaven and admired by men, it is when a free and grateful people unite to do honor to their friend and benefactor !*

* National Intelligencer.

CHAPTER IX.

JOHN ADAMS AND THOMAS JEFFERSON THEIR CORRESPON

DENCE-THEIR DEATH-MR. WEBSTER's EULOGY-JOHN Q.

ADAMS VISITS QUINCY-HIS SPEECH AT THE PUBLIC SCHOOL

DINNER IN FANEUIL HALL.

The patriarchs John Adams and Thomas Jefferson still lingered on the shores of time. The former had attained the good old age of 90 years, and the latter 82. Mrs. Adams, the venerable companion of the ex-President, died in Quincy, on the 28th of Oct., 1818, aged 74 years. Although, amid the various political strifes through which they had passed during the half century they had taken prominent parts in the affairs of their country, Adams and Jefferson had frequently been arrayed in opposite parties, and cherished many views quite dissimilar, yet their private friendship and deep attachment had been unbroken. It continued to be cherished with generous warmth to the end of their days. This pleasing fact, together with the wonderful vigor of their minds in extreme old age, is proved by the following interesting correspondence between them, which took place four years before their decease :

MR. JEFFERSON TO MR. ADAMS.

Monticello, June 1, 1822. “ It is very long, my dear sir, since I have written to you. My dislocated wrist is now become so stiff, that I write slowly, and with pain; and therefore write as little as I can. Yet it is due to mutual friendship, to ask once in a while how we do? The papers tell us that General Starke is off, at the age of ninety-three. ***** still lives at about the same age, cheerful, slender as a grasshopper, and so much without memory, that he scarcely recognizes the members of his household. An intimate friend of his called on him, not long since. It was difficult to make him recollect who he was, and sitting one hour, he told him the same story four times over. Is this life ?—with laboring step

“To tread our former footsteps ? pace the round
Eternal ?--to beat and beat
The beaten track-to see what we have seen
To taste the tasted--o'er our palates to decant
Another vintage ?

“ It is, at most, but the life of a cabbage, surely not worth a wish. When all our faculties have left, or are leaving us, one by one, sight, hearing, memory, every avenue of pleasing sensation is closed, and athumy, debility, and mal-aise left in their places, when the friends of our youth are all gone, and a generation is risen around us whom we know not, is death an evil ?

When one by one our ties are torn,
And friend from friend is snatch'd forlorn ;
When man is left alone to mourn,

Oh, then, how sweet it is to die!

«When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
And films slow gathering dim the sight;
When clouds obscure the mental light,
'Tis nature's kindest boon to die !

“I really think so. I have ever dreaded a doting old age; and my health has been generally so good, and is now so good, that I dread it still. The rapid decline of my strength during the last winter, has made me hope sometimes, that I see land. During summer, I enjoy its temperature, but I shudder at the approach of

winter, and wish I could sleep through it, with the dormouse, and only wake with him in spring, if ever. They say that Starke could walk about his room. I am told you walk well and firmly. I can only reach my garden, and that with sensible fatigue. I ride, however, daily; but reading is my delight. I should wish never to put pen to paper ; and the more because of the treacherous practice some people have, of publishing one's letters without leave. Lord Mansfield declared it a breach of trust, and punishable at law. I think it should be a penitentiary felony; yet you will have seen that they have drawn me out into the arena of the newspapers. Although I know it is too late for me to buckle on the armor of youth, yet my indignation would not perinit me passively to receive the kick of an ass.

“ To return to the news of the day, it seems that the cannibals of Europe are going to eat one another again. A war between Russia and Turkey is like the battle of the kite and snake; whichever destroys the other, leaves a destroyer the less for the world. This pugnacious humor of mankind seems to be the law of his nature; one of the obstacles to too great multiplication, provided in the mechanism of the universe. The cocks of the hen-yard kill one another; bears, bulls, rams, do the same, and the horse in his wild state kills all the young males, until, worn down with age and war, some vigorous youth kills him. ****** I hope we shall prove how much happier for man the Quaker policy is, and that the life of the feeder is better than that of the fighter. And it is some consolation that the desolation by these maniacs of one part of the earth is the means of improving it in other parts. Let the latter be our office; and let us milk the cow while the Russian holds her by the horns, and the Turk by the tail. God bless you, and give you health, strength, good spirits, and as much of life as you think worth having.

THOMAS JEFFERSON."

MR. ADAMS' REPLY.

Quincy, June 11, 1822. “ DEAR SIR :-Half an hour ago I received, and this moment have heard read, for the third or fourth time, the best letter that ever was written by an octogenarian, dated June 1st.

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“ I have not sprained my wrist; but both my arms and hands are

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