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Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 2 259 1 Browse Search
Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 4 202 0 Browse Search
Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 1 182 2 Browse Search
Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 3 148 0 Browse Search
Archibald H. Grimke, William Lloyd Garrison the Abolitionist 88 0 Browse Search
John Jay Chapman, William Lloyd Garrison 54 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, John Greenleaf Whittier 46 0 Browse Search
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall) 40 0 Browse Search
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2 32 0 Browse Search
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House 15 1 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 6. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). You can also browse the collection for George Thompson or search for George Thompson in all documents.

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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 6. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Old portraits and modern Sketches (search)
ited us to his mountain home, on the banks of the Pemigewasset,—an invitation which, two years afterwards, we accepted. In the early autumn, in company with George Thompson, (the eloquent reformer, who has since been elected a member of the British Parliament from the Tower Hamlets,) we drove up the beautiful valley of the White ermaid, or that which Lamb and Coleridge and Southey frequented at the Salutation and Cat, of Smithfield. The most brilliant man I have met in America! said George Thompson, as we left the hospitable door of our friend. In 1838, he gave up his law practice, left his fine outlook at Plymouth upon the mountains of the North, Moom among the breakers, and mad for land. If I get this home,—it is a mile or two in among the hills from the pretty domicil once visited by yourself and glorious Thompson,--I am this moment indulging the fancy that I may see you at it before we die. Why can't I have you come and see me? You see, dear W., I don't want to send you