In concluding his remarks he said:—"Of your attachment to moral principle I have this day had another and pleasing proof in the dinner of which I have partaken in the steamer, in which, by your kindness, I have been conveyed to this place. It was a sumptuous dinner, but at which temperance was the presiding power. I congratulate you on the evidence there exhibited of your attachment to moral principle, in your co-operation in that great movement which is promoting the happiness and elevation of man in every quarter of the globe.
"And here you will permit me to allude to an incident which has occurred in my recent visit to Canada, in which I perceived the cooperation of the people of that Province in the same great moral reformation. While at Quebec, I visited the falls of Montmorenci, a cataract which, but for yours, would be among the greatest wonders of nature. In going to it, I passed through the parish of Beauport, and there, by the side of the way, I saw a column with an inscription upon its pedestal, which I had the curiosity to stop and read. It was erected by the people of Beauport in gratitude to the Virgin, for her goodness in promoting the cause of temperance in that parish. Perhaps I do not sufficiently sympathize with the people of Beauport in attributing to the Virgin so direct an influence upon this moral reform; but in the spirit with which they erected that monument I do most cordially sympathize with them. For, under whatever influence the cause may be promoted, the cause itself can never fail to make its votaries wiser and better men. I cannot make a speech. My heart is too full, and my voice too feeble. Farewell! And with that farewell; may the blessings of heaven be upon you throughout your lives!"
Mr. Adams was greatly delighted with his visit to Niagara Falls. A letter-writer thus describes it:—
"Mr. Adams seems incapable of fatigue, either physical or mental. After a drive in the morning to Lewiston, he stopped, on his return to the Falls, at the whirlpool. The descent to the water's edge, which is not often made, is, as you will remember, all but vertical, down a steep of some three hundred and sixty feet. One of the party was about going down, when Mr. Adams remarked that he would accompany him. Gen. Porter and the other gentlemen present remonstrated, and told him it was a very severe undertaking for a young and hearty man, and that he would find it, in such a hot day, quite impracticable. He seemed, however, to know his capacities; and this old man, verging on four score years, not only made the descent, but clambered over almost impracticable rocks along the margin of the river, to obtain the various views presented at different points. The return was not easy, but he was quite adequate to the labor; and after resting a few minutes at the summit, resumed his ride, full of spirits and of animated and instructive conversation. After dinner, he crossed over to Goat Island, and beheld the cataract from the various points, and continued his explorations until all was obscured by darkness. He seemed greatly impressed by the wonderful contrast presented by the scene of rage and repose—of the wild and furious dashing of the mighty river down the rapids, with its mad plunge over the precipice—and the sullen stillness of the abyss of waters below. I wish I could repeat to you his striking conversation during these rambles, replete with brilliant classical allusions, historical illustrations, and the most minute, and as it seemed to me, universal information. * * * * * * I sincerely concur with the worthy captain of one of our steamboats, who said to me the other day,—'Oh, that we could take the engine out of the old "Adams," and put it into a new hull!'"
During his visit at the Falls, Mr. Adams, on a Sabbath morning, accompanied by Gen. Porter, visited the remnant of the Tuscarora Indians, and attended divine service in their midst. At the conclusion of the sermon, Mr. Adams made a brief address to the Indians, which is thus described by the letter-writer alluded to above:—
"Mr. Adams alluded to his advanced age, and said this was the first time he had ever looked upon their beautiful fields and forests—that he was truly happy to meet them there and join with them in the worship of our common Parent—reminded them that in years past he had addressed them from the position which he then occupied, in language, at once that of his station and his heart, as 'his children'—and that now, as a private citizen, he hailed them in terms of equal warmth and endearment, as his 'brethren and sisters.' He alluded, with a simple eloquence which seemed to move the Indians much, to the equal care and love with which God regards all his children, whether savage or civilized, and to the common destiny which awaits them hereafter, however various their lot here. He touched briefly and forcibly on the topics of the sermon which they had heard, and concluded with a beautiful and touching benediction upon them."
At Rochester immense multitudes assembled to receive Mr. Adams. He was welcomed in an eloquent address from the Mayor of the city. The following are a few extracts from the reply of Mr. Adams:—
"Mr. Mayor and Fellow-citizens:—I fear you expect from me a speech. If it were in my power, oppressed as I am with mingled astonishment and gratitude at what I have experienced and now see of your kindness, to make a speech, I would gratify you with one adorned with all the chaste yet simple eloquence which are combined in the address to which you have just listened from your worthy Mayor. But it is not in my power. You may probably think there is some affectation on my part, in pretending inability to address you, knowing as many of you do, that I have often addressed assemblies like this. But I hope for greater indulgence from you than this. I trust you will consider that I have seen and spoken to multitudes like that now before me, but that these multitudes had frowning faces. Those I could meet, and to those I could speak. But to you, whose every face is expressive of generous affection—to you, in whose every countenance I see kindness and friendship—I cannot speak. It is too much for me. It overcomes my powers of speech. It is a new scene to me.
* * * * * *
"Amongst the sentiments which I have expressed, and the observations which I have made during my brief tour through this portion of your State, it was impossible for me to forego a constant comparison with what New York was in other days, and what it is now. I first set my feet upon the soil of the now Empire State, in 1785. I then visited the city of New York,—at that time a town of 18,000 inhabitants. I tarried, while in that city, at the house of John Jay—a man whom I name, and whom all will remember, as one of the most illustrious of the distinguished patriots who carried our beloved country through the dark period of the Revolution. Mr. Jay, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, under the Congress of the Federation, was laying the foundation of a house in Broadway, but which was separated by the distance of a quarter of a mile from any other dwelling. At that time, being eighteen years of age, I received an invitation to visit western New York; and I have regretted often, but never more than now, that I had not accepted that invitation. Oh! what would I not have given to have seen this part of this great State then, that I might be able to contrast it with what it now is. * * * * *