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This morning, at seven o'clock, I took the boat up the North River, a noble stream, wanting only that element of which we were speaking yesterday,—association,—to be infinitely beautiful and interesting. West Point is a beautiful spot per se;but I must say that I gazed upon it with intentness, pleasure, and an absorbed feeling,—because it belonged to the nation. In imagination, I saw written out in its many-tinted forest the letters ‘U. S.;’ and it made my heart beat quick: it was a glimpse at my country.I was lonesome in the boat, and all day sighed for somebody to commune with, better and more interesting than myself; and, looking at the shores and then the water, I thought of our late conversations about common friends, and wished you were with me. And so ends the chronicle of a day . . .

Boston, Oct. 6, 1841.—I came across the country, from Hudson via; Pittsfield and Springfield, home . . . .

Longfellow has written a beautiful little poem,— ‘Excelsior,’—which I hope to send you, when it is published. . . . Webster passed through Boston day before yesterday, on his way to Marshfield. Judge Story and Abbott Lawrence both side with the Cabinet, and think Webster has made a mistake in remaining. Ticknor, who has returned from Woods' Hole, remains firmly his friend. I was told, in the west of Massachusetts, that the Whigs disapproved his course. Legare is rejoiced at being Attorney-General. Some time ago he declined the mission to Vienna, and all posts abroad. Mr.Ticknor and Mrs. Ticknor speak of him in the highest terms. He must be an accomplished man.

Ever yours,

C. S.

To Lord Morpeth, Albany.

Boston, Nov. 16, 1841.
my dear Morpeth,—I write at a venture, hoping this may hit you at Albany. We are all anxious to get you back in Boston; but nathless, I wish you to enjoy the autumn, as long as it is enjoyable, in journeying about. You may linger along the North River, stopping at various points of interest.

Webster regretted missing you very much; but he promised himself the pleasure of showing you the hospitalities of Washington. He told me that your speech in Yorkshire was the best piece of popular eloquence called out by the recent general election. You know what I think of it. But I will stop; for this letter is a random shaft, which may never reach you. . . .

Ever and ever sincerely yours,

To Lord Morpeth, New York.

Boston, Saturday, Nov. 27, 1841.
my dear Morpeth,—We all regret your long absence, and complain of the good people of New York, who detain you. Slight chronicles of you are

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