To Miss Lucy Searle.
Wayland, August 22, 1861.
Three weeks ago I set out to come to see you and broke down half way. It was the hottest day we have had this summer, and I wilted under it so that I had no energy left.
I took refuge in the antislavery office, and there remained in the shade till the hour arrived for returning home.
It was the second day of August, and many anti-slavery friends were returning from the celebration of the first at Abington, so that quite a levee was held at the office the last hour I was there.
I know of nothing that stirs up my whole being like meeting with old friends by whose side I entered into the great moral battle thirty years ago. It seems to me the early Christians must have experienced similar emotions when they met each other.
Glorious old Paul!
What an anti-slavery man he would have made, if his earthly lot had been cast in these times!
Well, his friends were mobbed and despised by the world; but nevertheless, Christianity sat on the throne of the Caesars, and even the selfishness of men paid homage to it. Our cause also is going to mount the throne of popular favor.
Then I shall bid good-by to it, and take hold of something else that is unpopular.
I never
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work on the winning side, because I know there will always be a plenty ready to do such work. 