honor to your parents. You are my only son, and all my dependence; and as you love me, I hope you will do nothing but what is right. The session of the Legislature has just commenced, although little has been done as yet. When there are any speeches worth your reading, I will send them to you. Present my kind regards to Mr. and Mrs. Pleasants, and ask Mr. P. to write me. The cold winter will soon pass away, and if our lives are spared, we shall both be at home, ready to make our garden, and set the farm work in motion. With sincere wishes for your welfare, I remain with kindness and affection, Your father, D. S. DICKINSON. MANCO CAPÆ DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. ALBANY, February 23d, 1839. MY DEAR LYDIA-I received your kind letter last evening, and was much pleased to hear that you were well. I had recently written you the difficulties in the way of my coming home at present. The N. Y. & E. R. Road bill is the order of the day for Monday, and will probably hold for a week, or perhaps two, and then I hope to be able to see you. I received a letter from Manco last evening, wishing me to write him. when I would be at home, and reminding me not to forget the "watch and cannon." (The last is somewhat uncertain.) I saw Mr. Porter in the Senate chamber, the afternoon of the day before he died. He seemed in such unusual spirits that I said to him, "What makes you feel so well?" He replied, thaking my hand warmly, "It always makes me feel well to see you." During the night he died, with no warning, after an illness of fifteen minutes. His disease is said to have been a kind of croup, but I doubt whether it was understood. It was a most shocking death. I have not seen Mr. Stephens for a number of days, and think he must have left town. He promises to visit us next summer. I have now to spend all the time I can get to write my address. I sit down to it, and just get a glimpse of an idea, when, knock knock! "Come in," say I, in no very Christian spirit; "sit down, sir." "Has the Judge heard any explanation of my claim before the Judge as chairman of the canal committee, for work on the enlarged feeder over the canal at Cohoes?" "Yes," I say, "I know all about it; anything else?" So it goes from morning until midnight; and it is only singular that I can do anything. Remember me to father, and give my love to Lucie and the dear little girls, and tell them I wish to see them as much as they do me. Yours affectionately, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. ALBANY, February 27th, 1839. MY DEAR LYDIA-I have just returned from Troy, where I delivered an address last evening before the Young Men's Association, and find the kind letter of yourself, Lucie, Virgie, and little Zoe. I was glad to hear from you all, and hope dear lovely Mary will not long be ill. The Troy gentlemen sent a carriage for me at three yesterday, and sent it back with me this morning. They proposed to send a committee to wait on me, but that I would not permit, and they met me at the Troy House, where I was politely treated. I delivered my address last evening to an audience of eight hundred or a thousand persons, comprising the most cultivated ladies and gentlemen of Troy, and had much reason to feel flattered by the attention I received. I had but just sealed my last letter when my friend, Mr. Stephens (the traveller), made his appearance, and asked me to get him a book from the library, which he could not get. I very gladly complied with his request, and told him he had been the subject of correspondence between us, at which he seemed much pleased. He talked of going with me to Troy. I consented, on condition that he would agree not to hear the address, and we had some pleasantry upon the subject; but his going was broken off by an engagement with which he could not dispense. Love to all. Affectionately, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. ALBANY, April 22, 1839. MY DEAR LYDIA-You will see by the Argus that there has been a most destructive fire here. I could see the sheets of flame, and volumes of smoke; the playing of the engines, and the feats of the firemen, plainly from my window. Yesterday morning, Sunday, I walked around the ruins. It was a sad sight indeed—the blackened walls and naked chimneys, and the broken furniture which filled the neighboring streets presented a vivid picture of ruin; but the most impressive scene is yet to be described. Upon the sidewalks, opposite the fire, in the several streets, might be seen poor women with groups of ragged and apparently half-famished children around them, sitting upon some little remnants of furniture, and the few miserable articles of household goods or clothing they had saved from the flames, by them-the image of squalid wretchedness and despair. I was forcibly reminded of the lines of Campbell "Lo! the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, The weather continues fine, and I could wish I were at home. Tell little Manco to be a good boy-I have his watch now in my pocket, and shall bring it with me. Give my love to all the little children and Lucy. Mary's wagon will not be sent as soon as I thought, but will before long. Affectionately, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. HUNT TO MR. DICKINSON. GREENE, May 13, 1839. MY DEAR SIR-Your note of the 11th was duly received. I am much gratified to learn you got home safe, and your health improving. Be careful of yourself, and all will be well with you. We sat under "our own vine and fig-tree" yesterday, and heard our own birds sing-how pleasant! how cheering!they sung of freedom and babbled of green fields. We are well. Can do as we please now,-"lap 'lasses and swing on the gate," without fear of the sergeant-at-arms, or of having "a trap sprung upon us." Our neighbors call, and appear glad to see us home again. My wife wishes to be remembered to Mrs. Dickinson and yourself. Make my respects to her and Manco. Yours cordially, A. HUNT. MR. HUNT TO MR. DICKINSON. MONDAY, June 10, 1839. MY DEAR SIR-Let my wife and self hear from you occasionally. We feel quite an interest in your health-hope the "internal improvement" of your system continues. We are all well, and hope to see you and Mrs. Dickinson at our house Make our best respects to her, and believe me, Yours sincerely, soon. A. HUNT. P. S.-Are you going to the convention at Ithaca? Hope you will-I shall not, though this county will be represented. I should make no 66 converts"-by my "close reasonings" and "arguments "--and therefore shall stay away. A. H. MR. JOHN L. STEPHENS TO MR. DICKINSON NEW YORK, June 21, 1839. MY DEAR DICKINSON-I returned from Washington yester day, and found on my table your very acceptable letter. I should have written to you before, but I was making my arrangement for a journey to the West, and expected to let you hear from me in person. My plans have been suddenly changed by an appointment of which no rumor seems to have reached your place. It seems ordained that I shall quit the country. The Whigs prevented my going to England and Holland; or, as the Herald, my stanch friend on the occasion, expressed it, "going to bob for Dutch records." Virtue is its own reward; and I have been appointed Diplomatic Agent to Central America. You will doubtless believe me when I say this hits my humor infinitely better than the Albany project ;-indeed, now I consider that it would have been very unfortunate if I had succeeded in that. The Whig papers have been civil, and my friends are full of badinage ;—they call me the "extraordinary Envoy," and persist that there is no such country on the map; but fortunately an arrival from that region bringing accounts of a revolutionary army overrunning the country and a revolutionary general entering the capital, brought it into notice. The mission promises some incident; for the "government" seems to be playing "hide and go seek" about the country, and at this moment, the "extraordinary Envoy" does not know exactly where to find it. I hope that I shall not be obliged to go before the first of September, but my movements are uncertain. The time of my residence abroad is also uncertain, and I have to "put my house in order," i. e., do up odds and ends before going; and as every day brings with it some new engagement, I find myself hard pushed for time. Whether I shall be able to pay you my promised visit is very uncertain-I am afraid not. Is it not almost enough to make a man commit himself blindly to fortune and fate? The course of my life is changed by an accident, and probably my failure in the business in which you so warmly befriended me paved the way for my present position. At this moment I should consider it extremely unfortunate if I had succeeded at Albany. The time passed there I shall always look back upon with satisfaction, for I made friends whom I should perhaps never have known, and who I hope will last through life. But I am filling my sheet with nothing but myself. How is it with you? Have you recovered from your attack at Albany? |