These observations may be deemed irrelevant, but they are suggested by Miss Adams’s own remarks on this subject. She often regretted the time she had spent in useless, and desultory reading and observed that when she first began to turn her attention to the study of the dead languages, she felt as if she was ‘drawing upon herself the ridicule of society.’ She lived, however, to see these prejudices removed, and to receive a respect and deference from literary men, which often excited her astonishment, as well as gratitude. There have been many instances recorded, of talent which has been suffered to languish in obscurity and want. Against these, the present instance ought not to pass unnoticed. The individual kindness that Miss Adams received was invariable. She had outlived almost all her contemporaries. But new generations had sprung up under the enlightened influences of education, who respected her intellect and learning, and who loved her for her goodness. After her removal to Boston, she was therefore seldom long in solitude. Her little apartment was usually decorated with the flowers that her young friends brought her. Many of them spent hours in reading to her, and cheered her by their bright and animated conversation. It would be injustice, also, not to refer to the disinterested, and liberal assistance she received from those friends, who enabled her to reserve a part of her laborious earnings for the benefit of a suffering relative. The annuity, which continued to her death, was said to have been first suggested by ladies; but afterwards, the proposal was put into the hands of Mr Shaw, and the other gentlemen mentioned in her memoirs. A few years previous to her death, a number of ladies at Salem sent her an annual sum as a testimony of their respect. At one period of her life, her correspondents were numerous. Amongst them might be mentioned names, that will long be cherished by posterity. The venerable President Adams, to whom the second edition of her View of Religions was dedicated, took a benevolent interest in her literary success. From one of his letters to her, the following sentence is extracted. ‘You and I are undoubtedly related by birth; and although we were both “born in humble obscurity,” yet I presume neither of us have any cause to regret that circumstance. If I could ever suppose that family pride was in any case excusable, I should think a descent from a line of virtuous independent New England farmers, for one hundred and sixty years, was a better foundation for it, than a descent through royal or titled scoundrels ever since the flood.’