may be illustrated by a letter from Mr. Bryan and the answer to it.

SPRINGFIELD, January 14, 1862.

MY DEAR BOWLES: In the name of the Republican, Amen! Once more pardon me for saying to you what my sense of duty compels me to say, without knowing whether it will be acceptable to you or not.

I am satisfied from your note of Sunday, and from other facts as well, that you are in no condition to come back and take up the oar of labor next month, and that it will be a most suicidal act for you to attempt it.

Figuratively speaking, you are a steam engine, and you have been driven beyond your physical capacity. The machine worked well for a long time, and carried its load so easily that the constant additions made to this load by the growth of years were not noticed, until it had been overloaded and strained in some of its most vital and intricate parts; but when it began to falter, it was discovered that the frame was not so strongly built as we had supposed. Is it policy to attempt to keep this machine running while rebuilding and repairs-acknowledged necessary are going on? Shall we fit a cog here and a bolt there while the wheels are revolving, and thus run the risk of so complete a wreck as to be beyond repair? Or shall we stop the machine and thoroughly rebuild, depending in the interval upon such motive power as can be brought to bear upon the machinery to be driven, albeit that power should run imperfectly and unevenly? I ask you, boldly, shall we thoroughly rebuild, and run as best we may while the rebuilding goes on, or shall we patch up and patch up, exposing ourselves to the risk of a total break-down?

You must not entertain the idea of going to work this spring. I beseech you not to think of it. I pray you take warning by the past. You cannot ward off disease by simply resolving that you will ward it off. You have not the physical strength sufficient to meet the severe demands heretofore made upon it, and why renew the tax upon it in its enfeebled estate?

But to come to the point. Without attempting to be dictatorial or presuming, I have to say affectionately and earnestly,

you must go abroad. Dr. Holland must come back to the editorial room as soon as his lecture season is over, and give time and attention enough to the Republican to keep it in as good shape as possible. We shall have our yearly settlement made up in a few weeks, and then Ben can be spared to go abroad with you, and I do not think you can find in the whole circle of your acquaintance a more judicious, useful, and interesting companion than he would be for you.

I am actuated by a desire to accomplish mutual good, in thus writing you, and have not stopped to ask myself whether my epistle will be well or ill received by you. My appeal comes from a grateful and affectionate heart, and I hope it may be received in the same spirit in which it is made. Will you heed it? Will you look the matter fairly and squarely in the face, and resolve to "rebuild"?

That the God of all goodness may guide and direct you in this matter, and spare you to yourself, to your family, and to the world, in a full measure of health and strength, is the prayer of your friend,

CLARK W. BRYAN.

BREVOORT HOUSE, NEW YORK,

January 17, 1862.

MY DEAR BRYAN: Your kind letter is only another evidence of the constant and generous thoughtfulness of yourself and my other associates in business. I thank you very much for its substance, and more for its spirit. I should be mean and ungrateful to resent it in any way. The subject had been already on my mind most seriously. I had foreseen the possibility that I could not resume my active life, as I had hoped, this spring, and had contemplated the alternative of going abroad quite early, say in March, to come back in early Fall. I believe I have made up my mind to do it, if my fears and not my hopes are realized in the condition in which I find myself a month hence. But I do not wish to consider the matter foregone till after I have returned home, and been there a few weeks at least. As to how and with whom I shall go, if go I do, that may also be left. I am well enough and courageous

now to go alone; and I cannot think it wise to take Ben from the office merely as a companion. My absence will fall more heavily, on the whole, on you than on any one else; and so would his-and that is reason enough why we should not both be gone together. Rev. Dr. Storrs and his wife have some idea of going. If they do, I should wish no better company. If they do not--and I must go-somebody will turn up or I can push off alone. Ben would be the most advantageous companion possible,- he would relieve me of all thought and care, and everything of that sort, and be truer to me than anybody else, I know all that; but he must not go. That I consider settled. You get along splendidly without me. I shall have no fears or anxieties on that score. I should only feel oppressed with the serious care and work thrown upon those I love, and in whose health and happiness I have a personal interest, both selfish and unselfish. But we must follow what seems to be the necessary and wise course, on the whole. And what that is we will let February develop. I hope to be home the whole of that month, and if I must go, to do many things that shall lighten my absence for others.

-

We send much love to your wife, and though I have not written half I feel of your tender thoughtfulness and kindness to me on this and all occasions, I know you will believe that I do feel it all, that it even burdens me while it blesses me with its great weight. Good-bye —

Ever yours,

SAM'L BOWLES.

The following weeks confirmed the necessity of the foreign journey, and brought Mr. Bowles to the point of taking his brother as a companion. It is hard for a halfsick man to leave home and wife and children. Europe had not for him the strong fascination which charms and draws so many Americans. The appeal of its associations and its art, the background of a mighty past which colors all its atmosphere, spoke to him less strongly than the stirring American present, with which his life

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-cure — or make 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