Late June 1826, the heat of summer, bright sunshine and the smell of fields and pastures was omnipresent in the small hamlet of Quincy, south of Boston, five-hundred and sixty-five miles to the north of Monticello. John Adams (eerily like Jefferson) was nearing the end of his storied life. was in a sad state: he’d grown pale, had difficulty breathing, and painful coughing fits. Early July, his granddaughter, Susana Boylston Adams Clark, asked him how he felt. “Very feeble my dear,” he told her. By evening, his face, already pale, had grown worse. Monday morning, July 3, Dr. Amos Holbrook arrived at Peacefield (Adams’ home). By evening, Adams soldiered on, showed no concern of his fading health, smoked a cigar, and enjoyed the company of his family. That evening, while Adams was resting in bed, he had difficulty sitting up to cough. Dr. Holbrook examined Adams and was not encouraged, “He is going very fast. I should not be surprised if he did not live twenty-four hours. If the medicine which I shall give him operates favorably he may live a week or two.” Adams enjoyed dinner but when he tried to find relief from his breathing by sitting up, he was bothered by “soreness and thirst.” Come nightfall, a temporary relief fell over Adams, and he fell in a much-needed sleep. Tuesday morning, July 4, Adams, was found in his bedroom in good spirits, greeting his grand-daughter and her cousin, Louisa, when they entered his study turned bedroom, were greeted by Adams with a big smile. He soon countered the affection with a gut-punch, telling the two girls he felt worse. Louisa sat on his bed, caressed his face, and Adams lifted his head to her head, and spoke briefly. Telling her to “be a good child.” Later in the morning an effort was made to move him but for fear of injuring him or worsening his condition, he remained in bed but was later moved to a chair after Dr. Holbrook arrived at Peacefield. But, uncomfortable in the chair, he was moved back to his bed. It was at this time Susana told him, “It is the Fourth of July sir, the fiftieth anniversary of Independence.” Adams, cognizant of the importance of the day, responded, “It is a great day. It is a good day.” At 1:00 PM, Adams, heard by Susana, spoke in a whisper, “Thomas Jefferson survives.” Five hours later, Adams, resting on his side in bed, asked to be turned, struggling to breathe. With what air and strength he could muster, he whispered in Susana’s ear, “help me child…help me.” “I wish I could,” she told him. A countenance of serenity fell over his face. His breaths grew short. At “about a half past six” the sage of Braintree passed away from the infirmities of old age. Seconds later, according to Susana, a deafening thunderclap shook the house and a rainbow arced over the countryside.