——­, Feb., 1825.  To-day, at Quincy, with my brother, by invitation of Mr. Adams’s family.  The old President sat in a large stuffed arm-chair, dressed in a blue coat, black small-clothes, white stockings, and a cotton cap covered his bald head.  We made our compliment, told him he must let us join our congratulations to those of the nation on the happiness of his house.  He thanked us, and said, “I am rejoiced, because the nation is happy.  The time of gratulation and congratulations is nearly over with me:  I am astonished that I have lived to see and know of this event.  I have lived now nearly a century:  [he was ninety in the following October:] a long, harassed, and distracted life.”—­I said, “The world thinks a good deal of joy has been mixed with it.”—­“The world does not know,” he replied, “how much toil, anxiety, and sorrow I have suffered.”—­I asked if Mr. Adams’s letter of acceptance had been read to him.—­“Yes,” he said, and added, “My son has more political prudence than any man that I know who has existed in my time; he never was put off his guard:  and I hope he will continue such; but what effect age may work in diminishing the power of his mind, I do not know; it has been very much on the stretch, ever since he was born.  He has always been laborious, child and man, from infancy.”—­When Mr. J.Q.  Adams’s age was mentioned, he said, “He is now fifty-eight, or will be in July”; and remarked that “all the Presidents were of the same age:  General Washington was about fifty-eight, and I was about fifty-eight, and Mr. Jefferson, and Mr. Madison, and Mr. Monroe.”—­We inquired, when he expected to see Mr. Adams.—­He said, “Never:  Mr. Adams will not come to Quincy, but to my funeral.  It would be a great satisfaction to me to see him, but I don’t wish him to come on my account.”—­He spoke of Mr. Lechmere, whom “he well remembered to have seen come down daily, at a great age, to walk in the old town-house,”—­adding, “And I wish I could walk as well as he did.  He was Collector of the Customs for many years, under the Royal Government”—­E. said, “I suppose, Sir, you would not have taken his place, even to walk as well as he.”—­“No,” he replied, “that was not what I wanted.”—­He talked of Whitefield, and “remembered, when he was a Freshman in college, to have come in to the Old South, [I think,] to hear him, but could not get into the house;—­I, however, saw him,” he said, “through a window, and distinctly heard all.  He had a voice such as I never heard before or since.  He cast it out so that you might hear it at the meeting-house, [pointing towards the Quincy meeting-house,] and he had the grace of a dancing-master, of an actor of plays.  His voice and manner helped him more than his sermons.  I went with Jonathan Sewall.”—­“And you were pleased with him, Sir?”—­“Pleased!  I was delighted beyond measure.”—­We asked, if at Whitefield’s return the same popularity continued.—­“Not the same fury,” he said, “not the same wild enthusiasm as before, but a greater esteem, as he became more known.  He did not terrify, but was admired.”

We spent about an hour in his room.  He speaks very distinctly for so old a man, enters bravely into long sentences, which are interrupted by want of breath, but carries them invariably to a conclusion, without ever correcting a word.