After the death of her mother, the care of Hannah, and of a younger sister, devolved on Elizabeth, who was the oldest daughter. They now lived in great retirement; and one of Miss Adams’s early employments was, weaving lace with bobbins on a cushion. In referring to this, she afterwards pleasantly observed, that, ‘it was much more profitable than writing books.’ This manner of life, with her desultory habits of reading, gave a romantic and enthusiastic turn to her mind, which was never essentially changed either by time or circumstances. Miss Adams’s heart was however peculiarly alive to the ties of natural affection. She deeply felt the death of an aunt, who had shown for her maternal tenderness. But as long as her sister Elizabeth lived, she had, to use her own words, a friend, a counsellor, and guide. ‘There was,’ she said, ‘but one heart between us; and I used sometimes to tell my sister, in the overflowing of my affection, that I could bear to lose everything if she was spared to me; but, if she were taken away, I should surely die!’ Yet this calamitous event took place; and Miss Adams lived to prove, as many others have done, that there is, in the day of sorrow, a strength imparted beyond human fortitude. The health of this beloved sister was declining for nearly two years; and it was, during that time, one of her constant objects, to fortify Miss Adams’s mind for an event, that she felt was near, and which she feared would be overwhelming. It however gradually approached, and brought no terrors to herself. She was calm, and resigned; constantly expressing her ‘entire submission to the Divine will, and laying all her burden at the foot of the cross.’ There were no enthusiastic flights, nor was there any unnatural exaltation of mind in her views of death. Though in the bloom of youth and with an ardent enjoyment of life, she met the event like a Christian. Hers was a philosophy which was formed and nurtured by religion. ‘For years after my sister’s death,’ said Miss Adams, ‘it was a struggle to live.’ Her health was extremely feeble, her heart she believed broken, and poverty pressed heavily upon her. There were times, indeed, when she felt as if she had not even a home. Her father had made over his house and property to a son, with whom he and his other children continued to live; but as this son was married, and his family was increasing, notwithstanding his paternal kindness, Miss Adams felt, and could not but feel, as if she was a burden upon her brother. This was the most trying period of her life, and it was always recollected by her with strong emotion. The first effort of her pen, after her sister’s death, produced some lines on that subject. They seem to be the very breathings of her heart, and are thrown together almost without form; yet a few extracts from them will best show the state of her mind.