The picture presented in the foregoing details is worth rescuing from oblivion.  Such instances of actual life, exhibited in the most private spheres, constitute a branch of history more valuable, in some respects, than the public acts of official dignitaries.  History has been too exclusively confined, in its materials, to the movements of states and of armies.  It ought to paint the portraits of individual men and women in their common lives; it ought to lead us into the interior of society, and introduce us to the family circles and home experiences of the past.  It cannot but do us good to know Thomas Lothrop, not only as an early counsellor among the legislators of the colony, and as having immortalized by his blood a memorable field of battle and slaughter, but as the centre of a happy and virtuous household on a New England farm.  He made that home happy by his benignant virtue.  Although denied the blessing of children of his own, his fireside was enlivened with the prattle and gayeties of the young.  Joy and hope and growth were within his walls.  He was not a parent; but his heart was kept warm with parental affections.  He had a home where dear ones waited for him, and rushed out to meet and cling round him with loving arms, and welcome him with merry voices, when he returned from the sessions of the General Court, or from campaigns against the French and Indians.

Besides these offices of beneficence in the domestic sphere, we find traces, in the local records, of constant usefulness and kindness among his rural neighbors.  He was called, on all occasions, to advise and assist.  As a judicious friend, he was relied upon and sought at the bedside of the sick and dying, and in families bereaved of their head.  His name appears as a witness to wills, appraiser of estates, trustee and guardian of the young.  He was the friend of all.  I know not where to find a more perfect union of the hero and the Christian; of all that is manly and chivalrous with all that is tender, benevolent, and devout.

Somewhere about the year 1650, after he had been married a considerable time, he revisited his native country.  A sister, Ellen, had, in the mean while, grown up from early childhood; and he found her all that a fond brother could have hoped for.  With much persuasion, he besought his mother to allow her to return with him to America.  He stated that he had no children; that he would be a father to her, and watch over and care for her as for his own child.  At length the mother yielded, and committed her daughter to his custody, not without great reluctance, trusting to his fraternal affection and plighted promise.  He brought her over with him to his American home.  She was worthy of his love, and he was true to his sacred and precious trust.