of him, and understand him better. For the rest, this acquaintance may end as it will; I shall be calm. "If we are kindred, we shall meet!" and if not the time is long since past when I wished very much to please men. I have passed through the desert of life; I have by my own efforts fought, through much difficulty, my way up to that Horeb from whose summit I behold the promised land; and this long-suffering and this great joy have made, for all time, the splendid figures of this world, its crowns, its laurels, and its roses, pale before my eyes. I may be fascinated or charmed by them for a moment, but it is soon over; that which they give makes me no richer; that which they take away no poorer; and many a time can I say to them as Diogenes to Alexander-"Go out of my sunshine!" I should not even desire to come to this proud magi, Emerson, and to see the stars in his heaven, if I had notmy own heaven and stars, and sun, the glory of which he can scarcely understand.

LETTER VII.

Harvard College, Cambridge, December 15th. I CAN now, my beloved child, have a little talk with you in peace. By this time mamma and you must know of my arrival in this country-of my first experience in it, and how well all goes on with me; but I again have such a craving for letters from home, and am so grieved to have had but one since I came hither, and to have no knowledge of how you have recovered from your illness, and how mamma is, and all the rest at home. I must, however, soon hear, and God grant that all may be well.

I wrote lately to you from Boston. I remained there several days with my friends, the S-s, amid an incessant shower both of visits and engagements, which sometimes amused me, and sometimes drove me half to des

peration, and left me scarcely time to breathe. A few of these days and hours I shall always remember with pleasure. Among the foremost of these, is a morning when I saw around me the most noble men of Massachusetts: Alcott, the Platonic idealist, with a remarkably beautiful silver-haired head; the brothers Clarke; the philanthropist, Mr. Barnard; the poet, Longfellow; the young, true American poet, Lowell (a perfect Apollo in appearance), and many others. Emerson came also, with a sunbeam in his strong countenance; and people more beautiful, more perfect in form (almost all tall and well-proportioned), it would not be easy to find.

Another forenoon I saw the distinguished lawyer, Wendell Phillips, and Charles Sumner, a young giant in person; Garrison, one of the principal champions of the Abolitionist cause, and who, therefore, at a time of excitement, was dragged by the mob through the streets-of Boston, I believe with a halter round his neck as a male factor. One sees in his beautiful countenance and clear, eagle-eye, that resolute spirit which makes the martyr. Speaking with him, I told him candidly that I thought the extravagance in the proceedings of the Abolitionists, their want of moderation, and the violent tone of their attacks could not benefit, but rather must damage their cause. He replied, with good temper, "We must demand the whole loaf, if we would hope to get one half of it!"

He expressed himself mildly regarding the Southern slaveholders, said that he valued many of them personally, but that he hated slavery, and would continue to combat with it as with the greatest enemy of America. And a man who had endured the maltreatment of a mob

who had borne the halter and disgrace, and has still stood firmly as before, combating fearlessly as before; the resolution and character of such a man deserve esteem. This gentleman brought to us two lately escaped slaves, William and Ellen Craft. She was almost white; her

countenance, which was rather sallow, had the features of the white, and though not handsome, a very intelligent expression. They had escaped by means of her being dressed as a man; he acting as her servant. In order to avoid the necessity of signing her name in the travelers' books, for she could not write, she carried her right arm in a sling, under the plea of having injured it. Thus they had succeeded in traveling by rail-way from the South to the Free States of the North. They appeared to be sincerely happy.

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Why did you escape from your masters ?" I asked; "did they treat you with severity ?"

"No," replied she; "they always treated me well; but I fled from them because they would not give me my rights as a human being. I could never learn any thing, neither to read nor to write."

I remarked in her the desire for learning peculiar to the white race.

"How is it," said some one in company to the negro, "that the assertions of the anti-slavery party regarding the treatment of the slaves, that they are often flogged and severely beaten, are declared to be false? Travelers come to the North who have long resided among the plantations of the South, and have never seen any thing of the kind."

William smiled, and said, with a keen expression, "Nor are children whipped in the presence of strangers; this is done when they do not see."

Neither of these escaped slaves complained of their masters. And though, like every other thinking Christian, I must condemn slavery as a system and institution, I wait to pass judgment on American slaveholders and slavery in America until I have seen it nearer. I am, from experience, suspicious of party spirit and its blindness, and whenever I see this in activity I can not accede to it, but, on the contrary, feel myself inclined to opposi

tion. I will, at all events, see and hear for and against the question before I join either party. Justice and moderation before every thing!

I was two evenings at the theatre, and saw Miss Charlotte Cushman-the principal actress in the United States -in two characters, in which she produced a great effect, both here and in England, namely, Meg Merrilies and Lady Macbeth. Miss Cushman, immediately on my arrival in New York, had written very kindly to me, offering to be any use to me in her power. Here, in Boston, she placed a box at the theatre at my service, which was very agreeable to me, as I could thus invite my friends to accompany me. Miss Cushman is a powerful actress; she possesses great energy, but is deficient in feminine grace, and wants more color in her acting, especially of the softer tone. This has reference principally to her Meg Merrilies, which is a fearful creation. Miss Cushman has represented in her merely the witch, merely the horrible in nature. But even the most horrible nature has moments and traits of beauty; it has sun, repose, dew, and the song of birds. Her Meg Merrilies is a wild rock in the sea, around which tempests are incessantly roaring, and which unceasingly contend with clouds and waves. She was also too hard and masculine for Lady Macbeth. It was merely in the night scene that her acting struck me as beautiful, and that deploring cry so full of anguish which she utters when she can not wash the blood from her hands, that-I feel I shall never forget. It thrilled through my whole being, and I can still hear it; I can hear it in gloomy moments and scenes.

I like Miss Cushman personally very much. One sees evidently in her an honest, earnest, and powerful soul, which regards life and her vocation with a noble earnestness. She has, through great difficulties, made her own way to the position which, by universal recognition and with universal esteem, she now occupies. She belongs to

an old Puritanic family, and after her father's misfortune, she supported by her talent, for some years, her mother and her younger sister. She looks almost better in private than on the stage; the frank blue eye, the strong, clever forehead, and the honest, sensible expression of her whole demeanor and conversation make one like to be with her.

I experienced much kindness and warm good-will in Boston, of which I can not now speak. Ah! there is no want of warm-heartedness here, my little Agatha, and the youthful spirit of the people makes it very perceptible. But the misfortune is, that I am but one against many, and that I have not the strength nor the disposition to struggle with and against that kindness which I feel to be so beautiful and so genial to my heart. The only quiet hours which I had in Boston were when I was driving along the streets in a carriage to visit institutions or to pay visits; these days were also agreeable from many things in themselves, and from intercourse with my friends, the estimable Ss; they too enjoyed them, and were gay. Agreeable things occurred, and agreeable people came daily and hourly, with fresh plans for fresh pleasures, and from day to day was deferred their return to New York and my separation from them. My little female physician, Miss H., had a chase after me every day, to catch me and take me home with her. The Lowells came to fetch me to Cambridge, but we, my friends and myself, were grown reckless, setting at naught all principles of ordinary promise-keeping and propriety, and had, just out of merriment and a little innocent foolhardiness, determined to persevere in our unprincipled conduct, and still remain together a few days longer in Boston under our pleasant devil-maycare system, when two telegraphic dispatches came one after the other, first to Marcus, then to Rebecca, containing the words, "Your baby is very sick."

With this was an end to all "frolic." Rebecca, bathed in tears of anguish, Marcus with trouble in his good counte