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[45] via Worcester. Henry and sister Anna will reach the city1 probably on Monday evening next.

Shall I come, or shall I not? I wish to be governed by your advice and the appearance of things in the city—but my desire is to be with you a few days.

If you see Mr. Vinal, tell him that I shall give up the lease immediately—i. e., as soon as I can remove my furniture. I dread to put up my things at auction, as the sacrifice must be great. But what else can I do?

You are right in surmising that there is a determination on the part of the city authorities to put down the anti-slavery cause in Boston, although they talk smoothly and make fair professions. They are not to be trusted. Old birds are not caught with chaff.

Probably you will be hindered in getting out the next Liberator, in consequence of being deprived of an office. Well, impossibilities must not be expected of us by our subscribers.

Give my very best thanks to friend Burleigh for his editorials, and ask him to write for this week's paper as much as he can until I get regulated.

Who wrote the Sonnet addressed to me? It is a fine one.2

Write to me immediately, so that I may hear from you by Friday's mail and govern my course accordingly. I shall send you the rest of my story to-morrow. Make such selections as you think best. Publish as much of the Utica Convention and uproar as you deem interesting.


1 Anna Benson.

2

Joy to thee, Son of Trial! and so soon
     Hath it been given thee thy faith to prove?
Joy! so may Heaven only grant this boon,
     That naught on earth thy steadfastness may move!
Yet when, but yesternight, I saw thee go
     Surrounded by that fierce, insensate throng,
Drunk with the wine of wrath, for evil strong,
     I felt my soul with bitterest fears overflow.
O! with what earnestness of passion went,
     Forth from my heart, my whole soul after thee!
I knew that, though to bonds and prison sent,
     Thou from all stain of evil still wert free;
Yet a strange feeling, half of joy arose,
     That friend of mine should have such men his foes.

Oct. 22, 1835.

The author, ‘An Old Acquaintance,’ is still unknown. Lib. 5.171.

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