And what of old Judge Sewall of the previous century—­he of a number of wives and innumerable children?  Even in his day, when Puritanism was at its worst, or as he would say, at its best, acts of thoughtfulness and mutual love between man and wife were apparently not forgotten.  The wonderful Diary offers the proof:  “June 20, 1685:  Carried my Wife to Dorchester to eat Cherries, Raspberries, chiefly to ride and take the Air.  The time my Wife and Mrs. Flint spent in the Orchard, I spent in Mr. Flint’s Study, reading Calvin on the Psalms...."[114] “July 8, 1687.  Carried my wife to Cambridge to visit my little Cousin Margaret...."[115] “I carry my two sons and three daughters in the Coach to Danford, the Turks head at Dorchester; eat sage Cheese, drunk Beer and Cider and came homeward...."[116]

Thus human were those grave fathers of the nation.  History and fiction often conspire to portray them as always walking with solemnity, talking with deep seriousness, and looking upon all mortals and all things with chilling gloom; but, after all, they seem, in domestic life at least, to have gone about their daily round of duties and pleasures in much the same spirit as we, their descendants, work and play.  As Wharton in her Through Colonial Doorways says:  “The dignified Washington becomes to us a more approachable personality when, in a letter written by Mrs. John M. Bowers, we read that when she was a child of six he dandled her on his knee and sang to her about ’the old, old man and the old, old woman who lived in the vinegar bottle together,’ ... or again, when General Greene writes from Middlebrook, ’We had a little dance at my quarters.  His Excellency and Mrs. Greene danced upwards of three hours without once sitting down.  Upon the whole we had a pretty little frisk.”

And does not John Adams lose some of his aloofness when we see the picture his wife draws of him, submitting to be driven about the room by means of a switch in the hands of his little grandchild?  In the eighteenth century home life was evidently just as free from unnecessary dignity as it is to-day, and possibly wives had even more genuine affection and esteem for their husbands than is the case in the twentieth century.  Mrs. Washington’s quiet rebuke to her daughter and some lady guests who came down to breakfast in dressing gowns and curl papers, may be cited as at least one proof of consideration for the husband.  Seeing some French officers approaching the house, the young people begged to be excused; but Mrs. Washington shook her head decisively and answered, “No, what is good enough for General Washington is good enough for any of his guests.”  Indeed much of this famous man’s success must be attributed to the noble encouragement, the considerateness, and the unsparing industry of his wife.  The story is often told of how the painter, Peale, when he hesitated to call at seven in the morning, the hour for the first sitting for her portrait, found that even then she had already attended morning worship, had given her niece a music lesson, and had read the newspaper.