and labor and affections were blent. To go abroad among foreigners while the nation's fate hung in doubtful balance, was to all true Americans more than a common exile. But to put the ocean between him and the Republican, to find such restorative as there might be in the green lanes of England and the Alpine snowpeaks, was the best hope for him and for the work and friends he loved. His last weeks were crowded with preparations. Dr. Holland was recalled to the office to take the helm. Everything in the paper which its chief could foresee and plan for, was arranged. The household with all its inmates was provided for with scrupulous care. The good-byes were said, the home was left, and at New York the brothers went on board the steamer, the younger looking with vigilant care to the elder's comfort. The farewell letter to the wife was written in the last minutes; and, utterly worn and weary, his last act one of provision for a needy friend, his last word one of courage and comfort for his family, he gave himself passive at last to the rough, kind cradling of the ocean.

I

CHAPTER XXVII.

LETTERS: 1861-1862.

To Charles Allen.

January 12, 1861.

THANK you for your note. I only except to its apology.

You and I are beyond hesitancy in expressing an interest in one another's welfare. Some months ago I came substantially to the conclusion you express. But I am in doubt as to the form the absence shall take. To go off alone, to Europe or elsewhere, would destroy half the benefits of relief from work— perhaps all of them. I am not self-poised enough to travel alone, without wife or dear friend, and get comfort and good from it. My wife cannot well go just yet anywhere. She could hardly go abroad any way. None of the three or four-two or three other people I could travel with happily, can leave. The way does not seem to open. So I wait. Meanwhile I mean to spend the winter as easily as possible, spending another week in New York with Mary, and perhaps several in Washington. Also a week in Boston. I mean also to ride regularly, and eat and drink more carefully even than usual,—and work much less. Then if, when spring opens, there comes no substantial relief, I shall break away more thoroughly-go abroad, if circumstances invite- make a trip to the Plains — spend some weeks or months in the country or at a water-curemake a long trip on horseback, with Mrs. Bowles in the carriage, through New England. I duly appreciate the incapacity that is on me, and hope I shall prove man enough to conquer it, both morally and physically. We will see. Meanwhile I

- or

thank you again for your kind interest and its expression. But don't encourage in me the selfishness of sickness. Dr. Johnson says, you know, that every man is a rascal as soon as he is sick.

Mrs. B. and I now hope to run up and spend Saturday or Sunday with you-we will do what we can. I keep better since I am home; yet my head is a constant pain.

To Miss Maria Whitney.

January 15, 1861.

I yield more readily to the inward suggestion to let you see what I said about Holland's book, because but for my acquaintance with you it could hardly have been written. What is yours could hardly be told; yet I am sure you are one of three or four women to whom I am indebted for

my rebellion

at Dr. Holland's Miss Gilbert as a 66 representative woman." The nub of the article is in the concluding remarks; yet if you have time and are not to read the book-pray read all, and catch some idea of what the volume is.

I find I bring back very pleasant memories of my New York visit; though most of the days were broken through the heavy weights I carried. Home brings soothing and sleep; but I foresee a long struggle is necessary to conquer my nervous weakness. Yet there is a certain illumination with the disorder that is enchanting at times.

with my freedom and

I hope I didn't shock Mrs. P almost irreverence. Few women command my respect so thoroughly as does she; and still she stimulates a sure antagonism, and challenges an opposition that I am certain to be ashamed of, the moment I have gone away.

I inclose your thought of the other day, as developed by Emerson. Yet I am sure he has somewhere brought out the other truth- that we are never sure of our knowledge, nor of our ideas, till we have aired them in speech or on paper, and thus looked at them from outside ourselves. But Emerson is catholic to all truth; that is his merit, and his demerit as an efficient reformer. To reform, one needs to hold firmly and present savagely a single truth, or one side of truth, and this

Emerson is too well poised, too broadly cultivated, to do.-I have thought a good deal of your suggestions on the loss of feeling and knowledge through their expression, for they interested me. There are some subtle distinctions to be drawn here, yet I do not know but you were nearer right than I. But all this will keep.

I thank you for your notes. But I can't go on and help save the Union. There are patriots enough at Washington now to do that business. I have thrown my sciatica, but I am o'er weak, and could not stand the fatigue and excitement of your capital city in this "crisis." Moreover, I am afraid I haven't a vital interest in the present row. We shall come out of it, sooner or later, safe and sound, and not a bit sooner for my fretting. I have a great faith in everything but the Republican party, and that, if it chooses, "may go hang." It seems to care a deal more about getting Mr. Seward out of the cabinet than anything else just now. Lincoln is a "simple Susan," and the men who fought a week at Chicago to nominate him have probably got their labor for their pains. But no matter -Seward is a necessity; Chase or Banks ought to be, and really are, if the machine is to run its four years; but let the New Yorker with his Illinois attachment have a fair trial. I mean to be as loyal as possible, and that isn't very loyal; for you know I do love to find fault and grumble, and thank God I can afford to. There are a few friends so demented as to want office, whom I desire to help; and for that I may go to Washington a few weeks hence, and then I shall retire to nurse my health, and mayhap for that go to Europe, and try the only perfect government on the globe-that of Louis Napoleon.

What was apprehension about Andrew is now conviction. He wobbles like an old cart is conceited, dogmatic, and lacks breadth and tact for government. Yet withal one of the cleverest, good-naturedest, and heartiest fellows alive. We were right at Worcester last August; and the people will yet see it and perhaps acknowledge it.

As to compromises, our people must do for themselves and for the border states all they can afford to do. They can afford a national convention, and should have proffered it early — not accepted it. So they can afford to grant the Adams propositions. It is not concession to traitors. It is only spitting on our hands to take a firm hold of the government. My instincts rarely fail me in politics, and they are sure here. It is not probable I should see this thing differently at Washington; but I am glad I am not there. I can keep cool here, and calm, and am reading poetry, and pitying my friends who can't. Heaven bless and keep you, and bring you home happy.

This letter reads strangely, twenty-five years after it was written. Lincoln "a simple Susan," Andrew a good-natured incapable, compromise the way of safety, the Republican party the weak element of the situation, and the crisis only a transient panic,—and this the judgment of a man whose "instincts in politics rarely fail him, and are sure here!"

Yet any one inclined to pronounce this confident prophet a fool above all his fellows, will do well to remember that Lincoln himself, on his journey to his inauguration, said: "This crisis is all artificial. It has no foundation in fact. Let it alone, and it will go down itself." The time was full of baseless hopes and baseless fears. But this letter illustrates one characteristic mistake of Mr. Bowles during the years just before the war. He failed to fathom the depth of that contest of principles which underlay the surface currents of politics. He did not habitually see that slavery and freedom, justice and injustice, were mustering for a great decisive struggle. Perhaps none had that insight except the men who were themselves animated by a profound devotion to the cause of the oppressed,and he was not one of those men.) He, like many of his countrymen, needed the schooling which the war