His son Thomas had left Milton and retired to Boston before he received his father's letter. Hostilities immediately followed, and were succeeded by the confiscation of the estates of the loyalists. Hence this cherished design of the governor was never carried out. Again on May 15th, 1779, he writes in his diary, "And though I know not how to reason upon it, I feel a fondness to lay my bones in my native soil and to carry those of my dear daughter with me." Again he writes, "The prospect of returning to America and laying my bones in the land of my forefathers for four preceding generations, and if I add the mother of W. H. it will make five, is less than it has ever been." Then at last this entry is found. "Sept. 16, 1779. Stopped at Croydon, went into the church, looked upon the grave of my dear child, inquired whether there was room for me, and was informed there was." He was indeed sinking fast, and his end was rapidly approaching. A few months later, June 3, 1780, as he was walking down the steps of his house to his coach, going for his morning drive, he fell into the arms of his servant, and with one or two gasps he resigned his soul to God, who gave it. He was buried at Croydon on the 9th of June. It would scarcely be possible for a human life to close among circumstances of deeper gloom. Utter destruction had overtaken his family. His daughters and his son dispirited, dropped prematurely at the same time with him into the grave. His son "Billy" died on Feb. 20. A child of Elisha's died on June 25th, and his daughter Sarah died on the 28th. In daily contact with him was a company of Loyalist exiles, once men of position and wealth, now discredited, disheartened, and in danger of starvation. The country he loved and had suffered so much for, had nothing for him but contumely. To a man like Hutchinson public calamity would cause a deeper pang than private sorrow. No more threatening hour for England has probably ever struck than that in which the soul of this great and good man passed away. It had become apparent that America was lost, a separation that might be fatal to the empire, and which her hereditary enemies were hastening to make the most of. To America herself the rending seemed to many certain to be fatal.