Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2

[217] paper. I know I should like her very much, because she loves her husband so well. Ah! that is the wife's high function,—to be his solace and strength, and to give him the pride and pleasure of being her protector. I have always taken very much to Mrs. Greenleaf; and I believe the strong element in my attachment to her is my admiration of her love for Mr. Greenleaf. She knows all his labors in his profession, and has been over all his work on ‘Evidence,’-a heavy octavo volume, of six hundred and fifty pages. But you-you, dear Lieber — have such a wife! There you sit, in what you call ‘seclusion;’¹ but what is seclusion, ‘with one fair spirit for your minister?’ I read your note to Howe; and both of us, mournful bachelors, exclaimed that such seclusion must be the acme of happiness. As for us, towards night we mount our horses, or jump into a gig, and career through the country for two hours; but when again in town, the sad question recurs, like the refrain of a lugubrious ballad, What shall we do? Where shall we go? With whom converse? Ices, strawberries, and chat, wherein are remembered things, experiences, and hopes of all sorts, absorb the remainder of the evening. Give us your seclusion. Ah! Lieber, be happy! I see you laugh at this overflow; but shall I not write as the heart bids? Judge Story is well, and to deliver a discourse before the Alumni of Harvard College at Commencement. His theme will be three Ds,—‘The Dangers, Difficulties, and Dignity of Scholarship in the United States.’ He takes the place of John Quincy Adams, who fails on account of his political engagements at Washington. Come and hear him,—if you can bear to leave your ‘seclusion,’ which we so much envy you. How is Oscar? We feel sad in dear Longfellow's absence,--facile princeps of American poets, friend of the warm hand and gushing heart. . . . I drove the Lyells out last evening. They sail for Europe in the packet of the 16th.

I break off now to mount with Howe to ride with two maidens fair.

Ever and ever yours,

Charles Sumner.

To Hillard, at Troy, N. Y., he wrote, July 15, 1842:—

We parted at the foot of Wellington Hills.² Forbes and I—our horses most restive in each other's company—called on Mr. Cushing. On my return to town that evening, I found the Lyells had arrived. The next night I drove them out. They were delighted to see, for the first time, fireflies. I caught several for them in my hat. Wednesday they went to Nahant to dine with Prescott. I was asked, but declined. In the evening I went with Howe to ride with Miss——and Miss——,a young girl of fifteen. I wished to laugh outright when I saw our cavalcade moving down Beacon Street,— those two young green girls under such ancient escort. I have been to-night with Howe to make a call at Savin Hill.