Page:Memoir, correspondence, and miscellanies, from the papers of Thomas Jefferson - Volume 4 - 2nd ed.djvu/283

Rh in whatever he thought was right : but when no moral principle stood in the way, never had man more of the milk of human kind- ness, of indulgence, of softness, of pleasantry in conversation and conduct. The number of his friends, and the warmth of their affection, were proofs of his worth, and of their estimate of it. To give to those now living, an idea of the affliction produced by his death in the minds of all who knew him, I liken it to that lately felt by themselves on the death of his eldest son, Peter Carr, so like him in all his' endowments and moral qualities, and whose recollection can never recur without a deep-drawn sigh from the bosom of any one who knew him. You mention that I showed you an inscription I had proposed for the tomb-stone of your father. Did 1 leave it in your hands to be copied ? I ask the question, not that I have any such recollection, but that I find it no longer in the place of its deposite, and think I never took it out but on that occasion.Ever and affectionately yours.

LETTER CXXX.

TO JOHN ADAMS.

Monticello, April 8, 1816.

I have to acknowledge your two favors of February the 16th and March the 2nd, and to join sincerely in the sentiment of Mrs- Adams, and regret that distance separates us so widely. An hour of conversation would be worth a volume of letters. But we must take things as they come.

You ask, if I would agree to live my seventy or rather seventy- three years over again ? To which I say, yea. 1 think with you, that it is a good world on the whole ; that it has been framed on a principle of benevolence, and more pleasure than pain dealt out to us. There are, indeed, (who might say nay) gloomy and hy- pochondriac minds, inhabitants of diseased bodies, disgusted with the present, and despairing of the future ; always counting that the worst will happen, because it may happen. To these I say, how much pain have cost us the evils which have never happened ! My temperament is sanguine. I steer my bark with Hope in the head, leaving Fear astern. My hopes, indeed, sometimes fail j but not oftener than the forebodings of the gloomy. There are, I acknowledge, even in the happiest life, some terrible convulsions,