sooner. MR. DICKINSON TO MR. SPENCER. BINGHAMTON, November 25, 1861. MY DEAR SPENCER-I have been much absent and as much overwhelmed, or I should have answered your several favors The Union cause and its success is truly a matter of congratulation. I rejoice in it, not only for its positive influence, but that, incidentally, it has disposed of that rotten political regency, having its centre in Albany. I have not expressed any opinions upon the questions of the day, except such as have been published far and near. I have changed no views of former years, except I confess I regard the institution of domestic slavery, as a political element, as more dangerous than I formerly did; not because of any relation between master and slave, but of that between the people where it exists and the government. As to the question of "contrabands," I would turn them against disloyalty and rebellion in every way I could, consistent with honorable warfare, and to the best account; so as to hit hardest where it would hurt most. It has been my play from the beginning to restore peace, by putting down rebellious leaders, and looking to the Union-loving at heart, at the South, to return to their duty; and in this view you will see that I would make no special war upon the institution of slavery, for that would array the people of the South against us en masse. I would, so far as consistent with such a war, respect all the rights of loyalty, so long as there is loyal feeling enough to respect. But I will add, when this has been fairly tried, and it becomes apparent that there are no really loyal people there, or that they will not return to their duty though protected by the federal arms, I am, before permitting disunion, for complete subjugation, and holding the territory by force of arms, until it can be peopled by those who will respect and obey the Constitution under which they live. This would involve the abolition of all their rights as a revolting, rebellious people, and amongst them would be that of their domestic institution. But there need be no civil war over the question of slavery. The South are doing in haste what the abolitionists were doing at leisure. Wherever the army goes and stays long, the relation will become so much disturbed and shaken and educated, that it can never again be made to work quietly nor worth keeping. If I were a rank abolitionist I would do nothing but pray, and that merely to gain time; for the institution is going to pieces under Southern management faster that the anti-slavery sentiment could make it if it had full charge. This is a consequence for which we are in no sense responsible, and one which the knaves and fools who inaugu rated this rebellion ought to have foreseen. These views are hastily thrown off, and as they do not yet belong to the public discussions, you will treat them accordingly. BINGHAMTON (Office), November 26, 1861. MY DEAR DAUGHTER MARY-I was about to write you today, but waited for the mail, and it brought me your dear and beautiful letter. I wish I had time and thought to pour out my whole heart to you, my child, but I have not, and as emotion frequently "absorbs me quite," I must content myself with a hurried note; for if I dwell on matters which lie so near my heart, I shall be bowed with grief for a week. I will not venture to tell you of all I felt, or yet feel on your leaving home. God only knows how much my heart-strings are twined around my children, and those I love; and like "the dividing of the joints and marrow," is a separation from them-even a brief one. I regret to say that we shall not return from the East until some two or three days after Christmas. Of course you will remain at the "Orchard" until we come. My first lecture is to be at Boston on the 9th, and my last, as now arranged, at Hartford on the 25th. I have two in Boston, one in Roxbury, one in Salem, where the "daughters week;" one in Providence, one in Worcester, one in Charlestown, one in Portland, one in Springfield, and one in Hartford. I had a fine audience in Brooklyn. There is nothing new here, and I should scarcely know it if there were, I am so much absent, absorbed by excitement, and engrossed by cares. I have for years hoped to have leisure, but it is not my destiny, and I must submit to sail through life upon a turbulent stream, catching as many glimpses of sunshine as I can. All would send worlds of love if they knew of my writing, but you have it e'en though not sent. Some time I hope to write you a letter worthy of yours received by me to-day. Your affectionate father, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. MYGATT. REVERE HOUSE, BOSTON, December 10, 1861. MY DEAR MARY-We reached here yesterday and found your beautiful letter, much to our satisfaction. Yesterday we were at Springfield, going over ground where I had not been since 1821-when not two hundred people in the world knew there was such a being; and now that my name, for good or bad repute, is rather extensively known throughout the Union, it suggests some changes in me, as well as some in the country. We were as nearly strangers there as in any part of the world. Went to church, passed a number of " meeting-houses," one of which your mother said might be a church, but I told her it looked as though they believed in "total depravity," and we went on and found "the church." Boston is a hard place to produce a sensation in a literary way, but before one of the best audiences assembled here, my address was held to be a complete success. Your mother is quite well. Love to you and John from us both. Your affectionate father, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO AUSBURN M. DICKINSON. REVERE HOUSE, Boston, December 18, 1861. MY DEAR AUBIE-I hope you are enjoying the pleasant winter weather, though I suppose you would like to see more snow. You must not let the rabbits peel the fruit-trees, as they are apt to do in the winter. I am sorry your dear brother is not well enough to skate with you on "letter S." You must be all the comfort to him that you can. This is a great city. A great many ships are here, and amongst them the San Jacinto, which arrested and brought home Mason and Slidell, and they are now confined at Fort Warren in sight of the city. We have had a very pleasant time, but are anxious to get home to see our dear little boys and their mamma, and all the family. Learn all you can, so that you can help me. Your affectionate father, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. MYGATT. BOSTON, December 18, 1861. MY VERY DEAR MARY-I write this to welcome you with a father's heart to the Orchard, where you and dear John will ever be at home. I have spoken every evening, except Sunday, last week and this, and am to speak four evenings of the next week. I believe that I could speak a hundred nights in succession, so pressing are my invitations, if I could possibly give the time to it. Your mother is at Salem yet, but I expect to meet her in a day or two. I received your beautiful letter sent to Charlestown, last evening, and sent it on to her. God bless you, my dear child, and keep you from all barm. With much love to you and John, and all at the Orchard, and a "merry Christmas," I remain, Your affectionate father, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. MYGATT. FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, December 27, 1861. MY LITTLE MARY-We reached here yesterday quite well, but somewhat fatigued, and have had a good rest. We visit Lydia L. to-day, and to-morrow your mother proposes to go to the Orchard, starting on the morning express, while I leave for Washington at the same time. Give our love to John, and all the dear ones at the Orchard, and wish them a "merry Christmas," a "cold 1st of January," and a warm "4th of July" Your affectionate father, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. WILLARD'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON, MY DEAR LYDIA-I hope you reached our dear home in safety. I felt concerned about you, but thought you might be happier to go home than to be left at the hotel alone, during my trip to Washington. You had been with me so long that is seemed hard to part with you. On the whole, for so much haste, so much work, so much travel, and so much cold, we had a pleasant time of it East. I had a hard, comfortless ride here, I assure you. I left the cars but once, and that to change at Philadelphia; and though due here at six, did not arrive until after midnight. On the way, we could get nothing that I would or could eat except some hard dry bread. We were detained by break-downs, freight trains, &c., in the God-forsaken Maryland woods, and I never had my patience so sorely tried in my life. The road is a mean, miserable, moping monopoly, cursed with everything stupid and knavish. We reached here and could get no supper but some fat jowl that reminded me of " Oily Gammon," and we could not eat that, so we went out to a restaurant at one o'clock, and got a poor supper, then went to bed. I had a fine morning sleep, and feel quite well. The house is a perfect camp; mud and dirt two inches deep on the floors below, and crowded full. I shall close up my business and get away as soon as |