For the old homestead and its occupants, and for the town of Bedford, Mr. Chandler always entertained a warm affection. He was a good correspondent, and his home letters, which until his entrance into public life were frequent and long, breathed a genuine feeling of filial and brotherly affection. After his election to the Senate, with the voluminous correspondence which his official position involved, his letters to the old home became less frequent, but to the last he kept up occasional communication with the surviving friends at his birthplace. During his father's life he visited Bedford twice or more each year, and after his father's death made at least one annual journey there. In 1850, when the centennial celebration of the incorporation of the township occurred, Mr. Chandler was among those invited to be present, and sent the following letter of regret: DETROIT, May 16, 1850. GENTLEMEN:--I regret exceedingly my inability to accept your kind invitation to be present at your Centennial Celebration of the settlement of the good old town of Bedford. It would have afforded me great pleasure to meet my old friends upon that occasion, but circumstances beyond my own control will prevent. The ashes of the dead, as well as the loved faces of the living, attract me strongly to my native town, and that attachment I find increasing each day of my life. Permit me, in conclusion, to offer: "_The town of Bedford_--May her descendants (widely scattered through the land) never dishonor their paternity." Be pleased to accept, for yourselves and associates, my kind regards, and believe me, Truly yours, Z. CHANDLER. His later visits were looked forward to with much interest, not only by his relatives, but by the neighbors, to whom a talk with him was one of the events of the year. He was there always genial and friendly, kept up his acquaintance with the old residents, and thoroughly enjoyed his association with them. His last visit to the homestead was after the close of his campaign in Maine, in August, 1879. He then met many of his boyhood friends, and enjoyed a ramble over the undulating fields which stretch from the central hills toward the banks of the Merrimack. And as he drove for the last time down the road from the house of his birth toward Manchester, he pointed to a pine grove which skirts the northern border of the Chandler farm, and said to his companion, "That, to me, is the most beautiful grove in the world."