cially mention the
handsome Horatio Seymour, then in his prime, whose courteous manners and
manly bearing made him exceptionally attractive. Mr. Adams bore the
fatigue of the trip remarkably well and his strength seemed undiminished
as the day waned. His devoted daughter-in-law remained constantly beside
him while at the Falls to administer to his comfort and attend to his
wants; in fact, she was so solicitous concerning him that she requested
that she might, in going and coming, occupy a carriage as near him as
possible. I cannot but regard her as a model for many of the present
generation who fail to be deeply impressed by either merit or years.

The Adamses were charming guests, and I have always felt that I was
highly privileged to visit under the same roof with them, and especially
to listen to the words of wisdom of the venerable ex-President. I have
heard it stated, by the way, that during his official life in
Washington, Mr. Adams took a daily bath in the Potomac. This luxury he
must have missed in Utica, as at this time it offered no opportunities
for a plunge except in the "raging canal." Mrs. Charles Francis Adams
accompanied her husband when he went to England, during our Civil War,
to represent the United States at the Court of St. James. The consummate
manner in which he conducted our relations with Great Britain at that
critical period marked him as an accomplished statesman and a
diplomatist of the rarest skill. The nature of his task was one of
extreme delicacy, and it is highly probable that, but for his masterly
efforts, England would have recognized the independence of the Southern
Confederacy. The energy and fidelity with which he met the requirements
of his mission undermined his health and, returning to this country, he
retired to his old home in Quincy.

While in Utica I drove in the family carriage with Mrs. Johnson and her
sister, Mrs. John W. King, to Peterboro, about twenty-five miles
distant, to visit Mr. and Mrs. Gerrit Smith. Mr. Smith had already
commenced his crusade against slavery, and the family antipathy to the
institution was so strong that two of his nieces, sisters of General
John Cochrane, who later became President of the Society of the
Cincinnati, refused to wear dresses made of cotton because it was a
Southern staple. As I remember this great anti-slavery agitator, he was
a remarkably handsome man with an air of enthusiasm which seemed to
pervade his whole being. From 1853 to