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Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 9: going to Europe.—December, 1837.—Age, 26. (search)
turn in the steamboat. No ladies are aboard. Your father was kind enough to come to the wharf and see me off. I have said farewell to you and all my friends; you know how my heart yearns to them all. Let them know that while I was leaving my native land I thought of them. I have them all before me; and my eyes are moist while I think of them. I cannot help it,—albeit unused to the melting mood. Again, Farewell, Charles Sumner. To his brother George. On board packet Albany, Friday, Dec. 8. my dear George,—I have longed for a moment to write you, and seize the few moments before the steamboat will leave. We are under tow: but a smart breeze promises soon to relieve the steamer and bear us swiftly to the Atlantic. And now, at parting, bear with a brother's advice. You have talents and acquirements which are remarkable, and which with well-directed application will carry you to any reasonable point of human distinction. Follow commerce in a liberal and scientific spir
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 10: the voyage and Arrival.—December, 1837, to January, 1838— age, 26-27. (search)
the immoralities of the Old World, manners untouched by its affectations, and a willingness to resume my labors with an unabated determination to devote myself faithfully to the duties of an American! Such were the thoughts which passed through my mind during the last night before sailing, while I was tracing the hasty lines which were to go to some of my friends. The letters were written; and late at night, or rather near morning, I went to bed. The Albany left the wharf about noon, Dec. 8, and, while she was being towed by a steamer down the harbor, Sumner wrote letters to Judge Story, Hillard, and his brother George. A fresh breeze then took the vessel gayly along, and the spires of the city soon faded from view. He remained on deck, enjoying the splendid sight of the ship bending to the wind, and keeping his eyes on the receding shore, hill after hill and point after point, till all, except the Jersey headlands, that met the most searching gaze was the blue line which mar