[46] Has my lost hat yet been found? I left my cloak at the Anti-Slavery Office—is it safe? Do not suffer my anti-slavery articles, at home, to be scattered. Hope Whittier will write something apropos respecting the Boston riot. My Helen is in good health, and so am I.
W. L. Garrison to his wife.
Boston, November 4, 1835.1 I seize my pen to inform you of my safe arrival in Boston, this evening—say, one hour ago. Of course, as it was somewhat dark when I arrived, it is not yet known by my mobocratic friends that I am here. Father, I presume, will tell you, in his epistle, of the pleasant2 and comfortable ride that we had from Brooklyn to Providence. He seemed to be as little fatigued as myself at the end of the journey. We were both exceedingly disappointed at the absence of brother George. I saw, however, William Chace,3 his father, Mr. Stanton, Mr. Goodell, and many other of our abolition brethren—and I need not add that we had a joyous meeting together. . . . I rode to Boston in one of the open cars, filled with the ‘common people,’ and thus saved 50 cents—no trifling sum in these days of penury and persecution. I do not know that I was recognized on the way. Instead of ordering the coachman to drive me to No. 23 Brighton Street, I thought it most prudent to be set down at Friend Fuller's. Was just in season to eat supper there, though4 he and his wife had gone to Newton. After tea, friend Tillson took my arm, and we sallied out into the street—for my home, or rather the place that was once our home. But we took another route—for he communicated a secret to me—viz., that our noble and persecuted brother, George Thompson, was staying at Friend Southwick's,5 (unknown even to the abolition friends generally), and thither we went to see him. Found him in good health and spirits. After mutual gratulations and a rapid conversation, though brief, I said, ‘Give me a sheet of paper, ink and a pen, for I must not fail to ’
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1 Ms.
3 The partner of George W. Benson. G. W. Benson.
5 Joseph (husband of Thankful) Southwick, of the Quaker stock of Cassandra Southwick, commemorated in Whittier's poem. He was one of the signers of the Declaration of Sentiments (ante, 1: 397), and was elected President of the Mass. A. S. Society in 1835.
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