“A new and strong tie was beginning indeed to bind the stately old men together. They were speedily becoming the last of the signers of the Declaration of Independence—the last of the great actors and leaders of 1776. Their common and dearly-loved friend Rush had died in April, 1813, after a brief illness.” Mr. Jefferson wrote to Mr. Adams of this occurrence, and said: “Another of our friends of seventy-six is gone, my dear sir, another of the co-signers of the independence of our country. I believe we are under half a dozen at present; I mean the signers of the Declaration. Yourself, Gerry, Carroll and myself, are all I know to be living.” Appended to a letter from Adams to Jefferson, dated July 15th, 1813, we find the following: “I have been looking for some time for a space in my good husband’s letters to add the regards of an old friend, which are still cherished and preserved through all the changes and vicissitudes which have taken place since we first became acquainted, and will, I trust, remain as long as “A. ADAMS.” “Neither Mrs. Adams nor her husband ever met Mr. Jefferson again, but she had the opportunity, and eagerly availed herself of it, to bestow kindly and assiduous attentions on some of his family. “She lost none of the imposing features of her character in the decline of life. An observing and intelligent gentleman who was a guest at Quincy within a year or two of her death, has given us a description of his visit. Mr. Adams shook as if palsied; but the mind and the heart were evidently sound. His spirits seemed as elastic as a boy’s. He joked, laughed heartily, and talked about everybody and everything, past and present, with the most complete _abandon_. He seemed to our highly educated informant to be a vast encyclopædia of written and unwritten knowledge. It gushed out on every possible topic, but was mingled with lively anecdotes and sallies, and he exhibited a carelessness in his language which suggested anything but pedantry or an attempt at ‘fine talking.’ In short, the brave old man was as delightful as he was commanding in conversation. While the guest was deeply enjoying this interview, an aged and stately female entered the apartment, and he was introduced to Mrs. Adams. A cap of exquisite lace surrounded features still exhibiting intellect and energy, though they did not wear the appearance of ever having been beautiful. Her dress was snowy white, and there was that immaculate neatness in her appearance which gives to age almost the sweetness of youth. With less warmth of manner and sociableness than Mr. Adams, she was sufficiently gracious, and her occasional remarks betrayed intellectual vigor and strong sense. The guest went away feeling that he never again should behold such living specimens of the ‘great of old.’”