There are few who were more calculated for the enjoyment of friendship and society than Miss Adams. Yet for a long period she seems to have been in a great measure deprived of both. It is difficult to say what effects might have been produced by the action of other minds upon her own. It might have roused it to more inventive exertion; or, on the other hand, in the fulness of enjoyment, her mental powers might have sunk into indolence. But one thing is certain, that her happiness would have been greatly increased by it. Those who knew her only late in life can fully realize how much she must have felt the want of a friend, after the death of her sister. Her strong sensibility to all that was excellent, and good, and fair in creation, peculiarly fitted her for that intercourse of thought and feeling, which such emotions naturally call forth. Her love of literature was no doubt a high source of enjoyment. But perhaps even this might have been increased, by those occasional restraints which the forms and habits of society impose. The epicure is willing to delay his dinner for an appetite; and, upon the same principle, those who read, write, or reflect with the greatest relish, may return to these occupations with tenfold enjoyment, after giving an hour or two to a social circle, or even to the dull round of a modern tea party. But Miss Adams had none of these incentives. She was at liberty to read, or write, with out interruption; to turn over huge folios, or musty manuscripts, from morning to night; and if she sometimes suspended her labors, and walked abroad, it was for a solitary pleasure. Yet she allowed no sentiment of repining, or of discontent, to embitter her life; for she fully realized that, ‘It is th’ allotment of the skies, The hand of the Supremely Wise, That guides and governs our affections And plans and orders our connexions; Directs us in our distant road, And marks the bounds of our abode.’