(Sl)c laxmtx's iilcintl)li) Visitor. 



51 



niiiin Willi liis fallier, was not of those steady, 

 stationary planets wliicli have held on to the pa- 

 rent spot (or two liundred years: they were pla- 

 nets (illing other vacant spots in the world's wide 

 s|)acevviiy. Alore than seventy years ago, near 

 the time of the opening settlement of wliat is 

 now considered one of the older interior towns 

 of Massachusetts, John Adams had hecome one 

 of the fathers and selectmen of the town. We 

 hove received, in answer to a letter which we 

 wrote, an autograph letter from the man of one 

 Inindreil and two years. With slight corrections 

 of spelling, capitals, and a more considerable ad- 

 dition of stops, we present the letter, word for 

 word, as follows : 



JOHN iDAMS TO ISAAC HILL. 



Ashbwnham, Feb. 1847. 

 Ho.voriEi) Sir — With gratitude I herehy ac- 

 knowledge the receipt of the kind letter that yon 

 was pleased to send to me. To receive a letter 

 from any of niy distant relatives and old friends 

 is a consolation and condbrt to nie in my old age; 

 bnt, dear sir, I did never e.xpect to receive one 

 from your hand, well knowing that Divine Prov- 

 idence and the good will of yonr fellow men had 

 chosen you to act in a sphere far ahove common 

 nun like myself, and that the offices which you 

 liad SEistained must be enough to engage the 

 time and talents of the best ot men. IJnt, sir, 

 your letter is by so much the more in my esteem, 

 and 1 should rejoice if it was in my power to 

 m.ike stiine amends more than a sincere wish that 

 you may ever f-el the happiness of a good shep- 

 herd. In your letter you manifested a desire that 

 1 should write something of by-gone days or old 

 times. 1 wish I could do it so that it would be 

 worth your reading; but you must make allowance 

 for old age and infirmities — for I hardly know 

 where to begin, unless I begin with my honored 

 (iilher, [Thomas Adams.] He was the son of 

 Joseph Adams: he was born in what is now 

 West Ciunbridge [in tli(|year 1710] on the Adams 

 phii'i', H iiich has been owruid and improved by 

 one of that name a little over two hundred years. 

 Alter niy father became of age he went to Wor- 

 cester, bought a place, returned to West Cam- 

 bridge, married a person by the name of Frost, 

 and with his wife went on to his place in Wor- 

 cester ; but within two years his wife and an in- 

 fant were taken sick and both died and were both 

 buried in one coffin. Some time after my father 

 married for second wife, Lydia, the daughter of 

 Ulr. John Chadwic'k, a citizen and free-holder in 

 Worcester. I>y this woman he had two children, 

 the eldest a diumhter — she in time became your 

 grandmother: the other a «on — that was myself. 

 No other child did my mother have. 



When I was in my fourth year.niy fiither's fam- 

 y were all taken sick except myself with a fe- 

 ver; but all recovereil except my mother: but, 

 alas! she ilied ; and O! how to this moment my 

 lieart aches for little children deprived of their 

 iiid, careful and priulent mother. My failier, 

 gain a widower, remained so in Worcester four 

 years; iheii having an opportunity, sold his place 

 to Dr. John Green, and bought a tavern stand in 

 West Cambridge, near the old meeting house and 

 with his two children moved to his native pla<'c. 

 ''oon after he married for a third wife the widow 

 iizabeth Bowman. She had three children l)y 

 r fust husband and owned a black wench and 

 itile brat. I'y this woman my father had three 

 ildren and with my sister and myself mixed 

 villi ihem made a large family, and a tavern 

 ilinually tilled wilh company of all grades — a 

 |joor pl;u-e to bring up children, 1 guess you will 

 Bay. But here was 1 — brought up or rather drag- 

 ged up in my woolen shirt and leather breeches, 

 find a like uniform. i\ly father gave me what 

 learning lime and circumstances would admit, 

 jiimiug at nothing more than that 1 might be able 

 1)1 do common business. He had no man's help 

 but mine, an<l it kept me in constant em|iloy. 



He had at this time a place [fifty years ago it 

 was common to call a common liirm a place — 

 Eb.] in Le.xiugton belonging to my molher-in- 

 Uin, which he carried on and [had] the profits. — 

 At this place 1 often went to work. The house 

 was rented to a mechanic, where 1 used to board. 

 When I was in my ninete;enth year I was sent 

 ..lere in the spring to work. The woman of liio 



house had been confined, and her nurse was still 

 with her. The nurse was young, and so was 1, 

 and in the course of the week which I was to 

 work there, often speaking to each other, [we] 

 had formed a sort of acquaintance. When n;y 

 week was out, not having said all 1 wished to, I 

 asked the privilege of paying her a -visit at her 

 lather's, and not being denied I was cartful to 

 pay it, which only made another to be desirable ; 

 and being well treated by all the family, my vis- 

 its were made as opportunity offered through 

 spring, summer and tiill ; and to be short until 1 

 was my own man. [One and twenty — two full 

 years; and this, as alierwards appears, two or 

 three years before the fuial consummation ! How 

 long a courtship for hearts so ardent ! — Ed.] By 

 this lime there was a mutual desire that we might 

 spend our lives together; but how could it be 

 done .' 1 was poor — my partner was not rich ; 

 and to think of going to live together in [such] 

 circumstances was not prudent. We conclude<l 

 to live as we were until we could gain a lillle 

 something to live on : 1 [would] go to work on 

 my new lot of wilderness land which I had newly 

 bought, and she would work [it was then the fash- 

 ion for all, female as well as male, to work — Ed.] 

 where it was most to her interest. My land was 

 a part of Cambridge farm in Ashburuham, Ms., 

 fifty miles from my native place. Early in the 

 spring J took my axe on my liack and set out for 

 my new counlry — began to chop down the 

 timber on two or three acres — went back — work- 

 ed at Medford in the summer making bricks on 

 shares. In the fall 1 again went to my land — 

 cleared off my wood — sowed two acres of rye — 

 returned to West Cambridge — worked through 

 the winter making shoes with Mr. John Russell : 

 in the spring went and disposed of my bricks — 

 went [again] to my land ; my rye looked well, but 

 [had] no barn, but built one that summer — saved 

 a litlle more — returned to Mr. Russell's in the 

 winter. In the spring went to my land — made 

 some provision for a house. And in the year 

 1770 hit so that on the 9ili of July, my partner 

 being as ready as I was, we were married. Hav- 

 ing |)rovide(l a team to carry her furniture, [the 

 result in part, no doulit, of the labor of her own 

 hands — the cotton and linen sheets, the woolen 

 coverlets and counterpanes — the linen diaper 

 towels and table cloths, &c., &c., with desks and 

 high chests of drawers and chairs, some of which 

 were ancient heir looms of the Lexington Mon- 

 roe family, as our own eyes can testify — Ed.] and 

 a horse for her, and another for myself, we set 

 out for the woods. She had never seen a foot of 

 land within forty ndlcs of our place: hut her 

 courage held out till we got home, and then it 

 was better than ever. We were now where we 

 had long wanted to be, and hoped that we with 

 thankful hearts and contented minds should en- 

 joy ourselves together through life. The sunniier, 

 fall and winter jiassed away: spring came on 

 pleasant; and the 27lh of April 1771, we had a 

 son [John] born — an addition to our comfort: in 

 '73 another son Levi; in '75 a daughter Joanna ; 

 in '77 another son Jonas ; in '79 another son 

 James; in '81 another daughter Rebecca; in '83 

 another son Walter Russell: in '85 another 

 daughter Belsey ; in 'S8 another daughter Polly : 

 all well, and in lime all grew olil enough and 

 married; and my wife and myself left alone as at 

 first. I invited one son to come and live wilh me: 

 lime passed on until we had been married fifty- 

 three years. She was taken sick, and, alas, she 

 died. And here, my dear friend, I find a period 

 to my earthly happiness. 1 have kind children 

 and friends ; but my bosom friend sleeps in the 

 grave, and earth catmot heal the wound. 



I have many things in regard to your grnnd- 

 mother and family 1 want to write ; but my sheet 

 is full. Dear sir, accept this broken scroll from 

 your sincere friend, 



JOHN ADAMS. 



Hon. Isaac Hill. 



In ihe simple, every-day language and purity of 

 thought so characteristic of the first settlers of 

 New Englaiul, has the centenarian patriarch de- 

 lineated, in his own case, the picture of that in- 

 dustry and perseverance which originated, built 

 up and jireserved the great nation that has now 

 become the admiration of the world. The fath- 

 er of John Adams, as we have said, was a mov- 



ing planet: he was a younger son of his father's 

 family, and the custom then was for the elder son 

 to inherit at home as of right entitled to the land- 

 ed estate, while the younger sons sought their 

 fortunes, generally upon new lands elsewhere. — 

 As many as one hundred and ten years ago our 

 ancestor settled in Worcester : this was probably 

 near the time of the openhig of that town. Our 

 grandmotlier,before herdeath,informed usshewas 

 born in Worcester — in what part of (hat town,after 

 the lajjse of many years, she could not describe 

 to us. Her brother, the living patriarch, was also 

 probably born there, although he very naturally 

 distinguishes West Cambridge as his native place, 

 because hi^ father was there a native.and because 

 he lived there mostly after he was eight years of 

 age. The tavern-house which he kept there from 

 about 1753 to 1775, still stands there, some hun- 

 dred rods below the Adams house, on the old 

 road to the colleges : it is a wooden house of two 

 stories with the gable end standing to the road. 

 So late as the year 1794 we remember it as kept 

 fur a tavern by Mrs. Blanchard, the younger half^ 

 sister of our grandmother, afterwards the second 

 wife of the late Jose[>h Thorndike, Esq. of Jaf- 

 frey, N. If. The elder Adams, before the break- 

 ing out of the war, had purchased wilderness 

 larMs in the interior — among them, as he used to 

 say, lands in Walpole, N. H., which by some sin- 

 ister infJueiiRe wore wrested from him, and after- 

 wards became the rich inheritance of the Bel 

 lows family which has been distinguished up and 

 down Connecticut river for nearly a century. — 

 The father of the patriarch said in our hearing 

 that if he had retained- all that belonged to him, 

 he could have presented a farm in his oW age to 

 each of his five children and between thirty and 

 forty grand-children. 



By the marriage with his third wife our ances- 

 tor became a slave-holder : the centenarian says 

 she brought with the three children of her first 

 husband "a black wench and a little brat." He 

 regarded this new possession in no very favora- 

 ble light — as being an annoyance, without being 

 much aid to the labors of his elder sister and 

 himself, under the superintendence of his moih- 

 er-in-Iaw, who probably had a stronger partiality 

 for her own children and property than for those 

 which exclusively belonged to her husband. It 

 was common in those times for the more wealthy 

 inhabitants to own slaves; in the early history of 

 Charlestown we have heard an allusion to the 

 punishment by burning to death of a female slave, 

 condemned for poisoning her master and mis- 

 tress — the horror of her screeches, under such a 

 punishment, living many years after her death. 

 The Adams black " wench and little brat" lived 

 in Ihe family until presented with their free-, 

 dom, the owner preferring to take his grandchil- 

 dren as workers after his own had left him. The 

 "brat" grew up in the family — was tenderly 

 treated, and well clothed and fed. Shivering 

 with cold in winter, he, was good for nothing for 

 out door work : in the summer lazy and faithless, 

 the moment he was set at work in the field alone 

 he would throw his hoe aside, facing up and 

 sleeping in a hot July sun. It is not wonderful 

 that the slavery of the colored race soon run out 

 in New England. The owners generally were 

 glad to give them their freedom and help them to 

 a living after they became free. 



Then somewhat advanced in life, with the 

 younger children of a third wife, the father of our 

 patriarch, about the time of the first spilling of 

 the blood of the revolution, prepared tp remove 

 to his Cainbridse farm at Ashburnham, fifty miles 



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