54 



^l)e laxmcfs iVioni\]\x) faisitor. 



by putting you to the trouble of readinj? a few 

 broken lines done by a trembling band and com- 

 ing from one wlio was once your near neighbor 

 but now a far distant but sincere friend. I shall 

 not attempt to write news, for 1 have none that 1 

 think would be interesting to you to lead ; but I 

 would let you know that I have not forgotten the 

 time when we first became acquainted, when we 

 ware first beginning our settlement in the then 

 howling wilderness, and about that time other 

 young persons were beginning as we did on oth- 

 er wild lots, and though coming from different 

 towns and parts of the country, yet settling there 

 near together, we became a neighborhood united 

 iiku brethren, and it is to tliis d;iy pleasing to 

 think of the pleasure we then took in each other's 

 company, and often to meet at one and another's 

 little cottages and spend a few hours in pleasing 

 and harmless conversation. And it was so order- 

 ed that a great part of the neighborhood were 

 good singers, and at our meetings we seldom 

 parted without having our singing books brought 

 forward and singing a number of our favorite an- 

 thems and tunes which were in them. I wonder 

 if you don't still remember many of them 



think I shall never forget them, such as — "Tell 

 ye the Daughters of Jerusalem" — " Behold I bring 

 you glad tidings" — "1 was glad when they saiii 

 unto me," — Psalm 34.— "Through nil the chang- 

 ing scenes of life"; and many more. Oh, it seems 

 as if even now, while writing, I can hear your 

 voice, together with that of my beloved and la- 

 mented companion, and also yours, with Mr. and 

 Mrs. Flint, and many others with united hearts 

 and voices melodiously sounding in my ears. — 

 Well, if the remembrance of these scenes do 

 draw a tear from my dim eyes, be assured it is 

 not a tear of regret or of sorrow, but of gratitude 

 to that Being, by whose Providence it fell to my 

 lot to be a member of their happy society. 



But alas, where now are those our beloved 

 companions and friends? Oh gone, all gone. — 

 The shaft of death, being con)missioned, has ta- 

 ken one after another, until not one of the first 

 beginning of our neighborhood is left. All gone! 

 Their bodies laid in the silent grave, and their 

 immortal part taken its flight to the regions of 

 bliss. You and 1 only are left to lament the sep- 

 aration ; but we ought not to mourn for them — 

 they are happy ; — and let us, mybeloved sister, 

 take courage. Our time on earth is short ; soon 

 our bodies, like] theirs, will be laid in the dust, 

 and our spirits ascend to God who gave them. — 

 There in the immediate presence of God our sa- 

 viour and Christ our redeemer, we slinll join with 

 those uiu' departed companions and friends in 

 celebrating that new and never ending song 

 and anthem of praise, even the song of redeem- 

 ing love. And while here, are we not ready to 

 exclaim with the poet — 



How long, dear Saviour, oh how long, 



Shall ihis bright hour dt;lay^ 

 Fly swifter round, ye whet:l3 of lime, 



And bring Ihe welcome day. 



And may the God of mercy enable us to stand 

 prepared for the glorious and blissful event. 



I have often heard it saiil, "Out of sight, out of 

 mind;" but experience has taught me that true 

 friendship cannot be driven from the mind by 

 mountains, rivers, distance nor any thing else but 

 death ; and while here in this world of care we 

 are anxious for each other's welfare, I hope this 

 will find you enjoying the blessing of health, and 

 every comfort, temporal and spiritual ; and I 

 would in(orn) you that through divine goodness 

 my health for three years past has been and it is 

 still remarkably good. But the infirmities of age 

 have taken away my strength very much — both 

 of body and the faculties of my mind; and my 

 hearing, since 1 last saw you, has grown so dull 

 that it deprives me in a great measure of the 

 ■ comfort and pleasure of conversing with a friend. 

 But I desire not to complain : my great Preserv- 

 er is still affording mo numberless favors and 

 lilcssings, which 1 desire to acknowledge with 

 gratitude to the source of all good. My eye 

 sight remains much as it has been for many ycais. 

 I can see with glasses to read an liotir or two hi 

 a time which answers consideraliiy in the room 

 of hearing. And lilessed be God (or iminL'a.sur- 

 ble mercies which I shall not attempt to descriiiu. 

 Well, sister Gibson, (pardon my boldness in 

 claiming the relation, but when I consider the 

 connexion in our family and seventy years' happy 

 friendsbip, 1 think 1 find some e.xcuse,) I cannot 



help noticing here the similitude there seems to 

 be between your circumstances ajid my own, — 

 our age — mine is ninety-six years last January 

 a2d : yours, if I have not forgotten, is only a few 

 months different, — our condition, both in single 

 life, each having lost a desirable companion, — 

 our places of abode, yours with your son, mine 

 with my son, and each of us receiving the kind- 

 est treatment ; and I presume yon will say with 

 me — I desire no better earthly home ; and may 

 the blessing of Heaven rest upon them for their 

 kindness to their aged parents. 



I hope, neighbor, you are endowed with a large 

 stock of patience, el;;e you must be tired of my 

 scrawl ; but I have still one fiivor to asU, which 

 is, that of a letter fiom your hand or some other 

 hand in your name. 1 certainly should receive it 

 joyfully and esteem it as a treasure with which ] 

 should not part during life. We n)ay never ex- 

 pect another personal interview — the distance is 

 too great for such happiness: but I hojie we shall 

 often hear from each other as long as we remain 

 in this vale of tears. 



Please to give my love to your children and 

 1 1 posterity one and all as you have opportunity : 



to your son with whom you live, in particular: 

 tell him his old uncle, as he has fi-equently called 

 me, wishes him a long life, and whenever the 

 time shall come a happy dissolution. 



Please to think favorably of the many errors 

 you may see in the above, and I take the liberty 

 to subscribe myself 



Your loving friend and brother, 



JOHN AUAMS. 



To Mrs. DoLLT Gibson, Ashby. 



Here is a sample of the early attachment grow- 

 ing up between families which were utter stran- 

 gers imtil drawn together by silting down in the 

 wilderness, where the cares, the good or bad for- 

 tune of each, were matters for common sympa- 

 thy and common joy or sorrow. The two fiuni- 

 lies, of little higher enterprise than their neigh- 

 bors, were specimens of men and women of real 

 refinement growing into good estates from small 

 beginning in a space short of ten years, with an 

 increase in both of eight to ten interesting chil- 

 dren on the way to manhood in the same time. 

 The fields of both of these farmers, the first tem- 

 porary black log fences having rotted away, had 

 in that time become enclosed in permanent stone 

 walls, much of which stands to this day : orch- 

 ards of apple and other fruit trees had then be- 

 gun to bear: sleek and large oxen, fine milch 

 cows, and flocks of native sheep fed and gambol- 

 ed [in the abundant pastures. A most peculiar 

 and trim neatness, continued down to this day, 

 we recollect as of the fields of the husband of 

 the centenarian matron. No man in the State of 

 Massachusetts raised and trained in the early 

 times better horses than Dea. Gibson : these 

 were kept to be di8|)osed of at high prices in the 

 metropolis as the coach horses of the Hancocks, 

 the Otises, the Grays, Thormlikes and otlier men 

 of wealth who carried out tlie manners and fash- 

 ion of the ancient regime. This gentleman from 

 that resource obtained money at such times as 

 when there was rarely opportunity to raise money 

 frotn the sale of any surplus farm produce. 



The music of these pioneers of the forest, 

 ineiilioncd in the letter, is worthy of notice, 

 as characteristic of the contentment and art- 

 less simplicity, taste and good feeling wliicli run 

 through that cotnmunily. The music of that 

 day was more commonly of the kind used in 

 churches, such as is referred to in the patriarch's 

 letter. Yet songs, some of them commemorating 

 the princiiiles and events of olden times, the vic- 

 tories, defeats and sufferings of the Indian and 

 French wars and the war of the revolution, were 

 then common : some of these songs were brought 

 from Europe by our ancestors a thousand years 

 old like Chevey Chase, the tunes of which have 

 descended to their prosterity to tiiis day, and 



are remarkably identical with those brought by 

 new emigrants from the British islands. The 

 Ashburnham Adams family, instructed by both 

 parents in church music, of itself made up a 

 choir, under the same roof, sufficient for a chinch: 

 they were all singers. The elder son who died, 

 at the age of seventy-five, two years ago, for ma- 

 ny winters taught the modulations of the voice 

 and nnisic, as well to those of his own age as the 

 generation which came after him : the sound of 

 his high-toned tenor or old fashioned counter 

 voice in the Billings and Holden music vibrates 

 not less to the ear, than his well-remembered 

 face does in the eye of recollection. 



The aged patriarch, (Adams,) and matron (Gib- 

 son,) who in 1841 had oiitlive<l their whole neigh- 

 borhood of first settlers although among the eldest 

 of the families, advanced afterwards each to live 

 beyond their hundred years. The correspon- 

 dence, opening three years after he had left, was 

 subsequently kept up when occasionally the 

 Pennsylvania descendants were either visited by, 

 or came back to see their Ashburnham friends. 

 Compliments passed between the male and fe- 

 male centenarians. She did not write an answer 

 to his first letter or cause it to be done ; l)ut on 

 the occasion of his son's return fiom Massachu- 

 setts, she sent him a present of childhood em- 

 blems, consisting of sugar lozenges, white wa- 

 fers, and more distinguished than the rest, a sugar 

 heart. This was too strong an appeal to the 

 gallantry of the patriaich to quit his awl anil his 

 last, which was his idtifliate employment of labor 

 — stretching out life against the effects of ennui, 

 which has hastened the death of many men and 

 women before arriving at half his age, and again 

 resume his pen. This pen seems to have receiv- 

 ed new animation fi-om tliis event, as will be 

 shown in the four letters following, written very 

 near that time, two of which bear date on the 

 same day. 



Before the second letter was sent off, as will 

 appear by the following, the body of the matron 

 had returned to the dust and the spirit to the God 

 who gave it. Of this excellent old lady luid her 

 exit, a female friend of the family connexion, 

 who at our request asked for copies and forward- 

 ed the first as well as the second letter to Mrs. 

 Gibson, writes as follows : 



"I cannot but regret Mis. Gibson did not \he 

 to receive and peruse the letter. She retained 

 her faculties in a remarkable degree to the closo 

 of her earthly existence. She was diligently en- 

 gaged in her ' every-day-work,' viz., kiiilting, till 

 within three days of her death, and up to that 

 lime took her early breakfast with the otlnr 

 meuibi'is of the family. M the last hir siiength 

 and sinlit failed her, and wliL-n asked by her 

 grand-daughter if she felt that her work on earth 



was done — ' yes, Maria, (she replied) my woik 

 is done.' She then repeateil for the last lime a 

 favorite hymn which she had comiiiitled lo mem- 

 oiy many years before. Her spirit took ilsfiight 

 Jan. 10, 1846, three days previous to the dale of 

 his letter." 



The grandson of both these aged persons (John 

 Adams, 3d.,) having written the jiatriarrh news 

 of her death before the centenarian had sent otV 

 his letter to her, he addressed that to liim, w hicli 

 was received and rend by the descendants of both, 

 residing several htindred miles di.-lant from tlui 

 then sole survivor, wilhevcirmore iiilcrest llian if 

 both had been alive. The two letters follow : 



JOHN ADAMS TO DOLLY GIBSON. 



Harford, Jan. 22, 1846. 

 Beloved Friend :— Once more I am aneinpiing 

 with a trembling band to while a tew lines lo 

 you, fondly hoping this will find you enjoying 

 good heallh and all the blessings iliis life ran 

 afford. My heallh, through the goodness of L)i- 



a 



