(There was no choice by the people in the election of that year, and John Quincy Adams had been chosen President by a vote of the House of Representatives.)

“I went last night in a carriage with four others—­Captain Chauncey of the navy; Mr. Cooper, the celebrated author of the popular American novels; Mr. Causici (pronounced Cau-see-chee), the sculptor; and Mr. Owen, of Lanark, the celebrated philanthropist.

“Mr. Cooper remarked that we had on board a more singularly selected company, he believed, than any carriage at the door of the President, namely, a misanthropist (such he called Captain Chauncey, brother of the Commodore), a philanthropist (Mr. Owen), a painter (myself), a sculptor (Mr. Causici), and an author (himself).

“The Mr. Owen mentioned above is the very man I sometimes met at Mr. Wilberforce’s in London, and who was present at the interesting scene I have often related that occurred at Mr. Wilberforce’s.  He recollected the circumstance and recognized me, as I did him, instantly, although it is twelve years ago.

“I am making progress with the General, but am much perplexed for want of time; I mean his time.  He is so harassed by visitors and has so many letters to write that I find it exceedingly difficult to do the subject justice.  I give him the last sitting in Washington to-morrow, reserving another sitting or two when he visits New York in July next.  I have gone on thus far to my satisfaction and do not doubt but I shall succeed entirely, if I am allowed the requisite number of sittings.  The General is very agreeable.  He introduced me to his son by saying:  ’This is Mr. Morse, the painter, the son of the geographer; he has come to Washington to take the topography of my face.’  He thinks of visiting New Haven again when he returns from Boston.  He regretted not having seen more of it when he was there, as he was much pleased with the place.  He remembers Professor Silliman and others with great affection.

“I have left but little room in this letter to express my affection for my dearly loved wife and children; but of that I need not assure them.  I long to hear from you, but direct your letters next to New York, as I shall probably be there by the end of next week, or the beginning of the succeeding one.

“Love to all the family and friends and neighbors.  Your affectionate husband, as ever.”

Alas! that there should have been no telegraph then to warn the loving husband of the blow which Fate had dealt him.

As he was light-heartedly attending the festivities at the White House, and as he was penning these two interesting letters to his wife, letters which she never read, and anticipating with keenest pleasure a speedy reunion, she lay dead at their home in New Haven.

His father thus conveys to him the melancholy intelligence:—­

“February 8th, 1825. My affectionately beloved Son,—­Mysterious are the ways of Providence.  My heart is in pain and deeply sorrowful while I announce to you the sudden and unexpected death of your dear and deservedly loved wife.  Her disease proved to be an affection of the heart—­incurable, had it been known.  Dr. Smith’s letter, accompanying this, will explain all you will desire to know on this subject.