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LETTERS OF LIFE.

The widow of Thomas Lathrop, Esq., is still living, and exhibits, at the age of ninety, a rare example of comely appearance, active habitudes, and serene piety. With unbowed frame she directs the daily operations of a systematic household, and delights in the skilful uses of the needle. She illustrates the theory of Cicero, that "old age is honored, if it maintain its own right, if it is subservient to no one, if it continue to exercise control over its dependents;" and belongs to that class whom the same eloquent philosopher designates as "those with whom wisdom is progressive to their latest breath."[1]

Mr. Daniel Lathrop was a gentleman of portly form, whose movements were as leisurely as those of his elder brother were mercurial. He almost always smiled when he spoke, and ever had a kind word or benevolent deed for the lowly and poor. He and his fair wife were patterns of amiable temperament and domestic happiness. Three daughters and a son, whom they reared with great tenderness, reached maturity, but all slumber in the grave with their parents. The whole family, interesting in themselves, were more so to me from being inhabitants of the mansion of my birth and earliest happiness. I watched the changes that were made in modernizing the premises with somewhat of the jealous exclusiveness that the ancient Jews

  1. She died in 1863, at the age of ninety-two.