44 
along each story, at each side of which are the doors of the cells; 
in these nothing is placed but a wooden bedstead, as in the hospital. 
Every storj- has an eating room, and a common hall; in the latter, 
in which the sick may pass the day, a table is placed with benches, 
which are nailed to the floor. The infuriated are placed in soli¬ 
tary cells, and when they cannot be subdued, are brought under 
a cold shower bath. The chambers are heated, as in the hospi¬ 
tals, by means of flues. In this asylum also, in which there were 
forty patients, the greatest cleanliness prevailed. 
On the 3d of August, Mr. Quincy called for me at twelve 
o’clock, to introduce me, with Captain Ryk and Mr. Tromp, to 
the elder Mr. Adams, father of the present president. This 
worthy old man, who was ninety years old, and a signer of the 
Declaration of Independence, lives ten miles from Boston, on 
his farm at Quincy, revered by his family, and honoured by the 
whole nation, who regard him as their common father. I was 
much affected when, as I approached this venerable man who had 
so efficiently laboured in the cause of American independence, he 
extended to me his hand. He was still in full possession of his 
mental faculties, and remembered, not only the things which had 
occurred long ago, but knew also every thing which had recently 
taken place, or was now passing. His bodily strength, however, 
was diminishing, and he felt a weakness, particularly in his legs. 
He conversed with me about half an hour, especially concerning 
Holland, where he had been ambassador during the revolution, 
and the features of his ancient countenance revived again as he 
dwelt on the fact, that it was owing to him that Holland then de¬ 
clared war against England, and the English ambassador, notwith¬ 
standing all his intrigues, could effect nothing. When Mr. 
Tromp was introduced to him, he remembered his great ances¬ 
tor, shook his hand in a friendly manner, was much affected, 
and said to him, “God bless you, Van Tromp!” We left this 
worthy old man in deep emotion, and congratulated each other 
on our good fortune in having been introduced to this departing 
veteran of a revolution, which may well be called salutary. 
In his house we saw several good portraits and busts of him, 
portraits of his wife, who died seven years ago, of his son, the 
president, and of General Warren , who fell at Bunker’s Hill. 
We saw also a son of President J. Q. Adams, who is a lawyer at 
Boston, and with whom I became acquainted some days ago in 
the Athenaeum. 
From Boston to Quincy there is a good turnpike road. It runs 
over some hills, on which the traveller sees a handsome panora¬ 
ma; behind him the city, on the left the bay, in front a well-cul¬ 
tivated region with handsome farms, on the right the Blue Hills. 
We passed by several neat farm-houses; the grounds are separated 
