Am I correct in the impression that the Hon. D. S. Dickinson was my tutor one short winter, while his home was with an uncle at Caledonia Springs, temporarily, but his parents, if I recollect, resided in Massachusetts? From a notice in the papers, some months since, I learned that your home was Binghamton, N. Y., and while visiting a daughter at Topeka, Kansas, I read an extract from a speech delivered at Brooklyn, N. Y., and I then resolved to intrude myself upon your notice.

In the midst of the darkness and gloom that pervades us on every side, I endeavor to gather up some reminiscences of the past to cheer my lonely pathway to the tomb. I have given my three beloved sons to their country (I much fear that one has already fallen), and am dividing my time among my daughters, who are far distant from each other.

If indeed Delia Stone was once your pupil, will you have the kindness to gratify her by answering this, and address

MRS. DELIA YALE,

Jonesville, Hillsdale County, Michigan.

MR. DICKINSON TO MISS NELLIE MYGATT.

THE ORCHARD, December 7, 1862.

MY DEAR NELLIE-You were very good to remember me with a kind note when you were depressed and afflicted with illness, and you shall have in return my grateful acknowledg ments the only tribute I can offer. I hope, by this time you are much better again, and whether so or not, we regret that you are not here to enjoy the advice of a Doctor of Laws. They have one advantage over a "Great Medicine: " their prescriptions are very good in sickness, and better in health.

The weather is cold, colder, coldest, and biting and bitter. We are all snug and warm; for as our material church is undergoing some repairs in the heating apparatus, we do not go out to-day, but try to remember our church spiritual at home.

There is not much in the war news to cheer us; though I think the preparations of Burnside, the sailing of Banks, and one or two other expeditions, the cold weather, the failure of that frog-eating knave, Louis Napoleon, to get England, because of cowardice, and Russia, because of friendship, to aid in inter

vention, the restlessness of the rebellion leaders, the nervous sensibility of its sympathizers and abettors in this and other free States, and the effort to procure an armistice, are ominous of the fate of the rebellion. It begins to see the sword of Damocles suspended over it; and I care not how soon it falls, if the constitution be not acknowledged in all its purity and power.

The President's message is well; some parts of it are replete with truths which, though common-place, are startling. It lacks elegance and compactness, but it is frank, sincere, and manly; and anything that is manly excites my admiration. Does it not yours?

Well, dear Nellie, the season of festive occasions, of joyous congratulations, of affectionate interchange of generous wishes and holy remembrances, is upon us again, and another Christmas with its greetings, and the New Year with its salutations, will be with us. God grant us all and those we love, all that the season suggests, all that kind and generous hearts would invoke for us or a beneficent Providence bestow.

To-morrow I expect to go down to the city, thence to Albany, returning the latter part of the week, and hoping to find you at the Orchard and ready to go with me when you go to the city.

All as usual, and all send love to you and many remembrances.

Your affectionate friend,

D. S. DICKINSON.

MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. YALE.

BINGHAMTON, December 19, 1862.

MY DEAR MRS. YALE-I do not remember ever to have experienced deeper emotion, except under domestic vicissitude, than I did this morning on reading your letter, which reached here during my absence of a few days in New York. I was overjoyed to hear from you, my long-lost and most valued friend, and your beautiful and welcome letter rolled back upon my worn and weary heart such a rushing tide of memories that I yielded to feelings that I could not control, or resist, or conquer, and I sat down and wept like a child.

VOL. II.-38

The time spent in teaching that little school was amongst the bright and sunny periods of my existence, and I have ever cherished it as a foretaste of that land where there is no sin or sorrow. I had gone out from my rustic training, in a rural home; I knew no care and little sorrow, and not a single circumstance occurred during my term of the least unpleasant character; but my young life was cheered and made happy by the pursuit of a favorite occupation, blessed by kind and indulgent patrons, and the respect and obedience of my pupils,

I loved that little school and all its belongings; and when I left, it was understood that I should return again and teach it another winter, and the trustees were to correspond with me on the subject. I wrote to them as the autumn approached, but never heard from them. As there was no post-office nearer than Scottsville, I presume they never received my letter. The result was that I engaged as a teacher at the East, and never returned to the vicinity of Wheatland for nearly thirty years, and never to Wheatland, and the well-remembered places there, until last June. I had never forgotten the dear place and its beloved associations; the people, who treated me with more than parental consideration; nor my pupils, whose cheerful faces and beaming eyes I can see now as plainly as when they were before me, in 1821-222.

There can be no affectation in saying that you were, with me, an especial favorite; that I then regarded you with exceeding interest, and strange to say, that although I have been anxious to hear from you, and have inquired whenever I have chanced to meet any one from that vicinity, even last summer, I have never learned what became of you until I read your letter this morning. I was more pleased with the remembrance and evidence of regard than I can describe, and shall esteem you with increased interest for your tribute which has given me so much emotional pleasure.

My life has been an eventful one, full of excitement and toil, full of joys and sorrows, full of smiles and tears; rewarded with what the world calls honor, greeted with popular acclaim, and subjected to the censures that all public men encounter who do their duty fearlessly; but I have been generally cheered by a generous feeling; have enjoyed the confidence

and respect of my neighbors, and have been blessed in my domestic relations.

Yes, my dear Madam, the brown-haired boy whom you knew in the lowly school-house has been known perhaps nearly as far as civilization has travelled. You may remember I was then a mechanic, but I did not long pursue the craft, but taught school. I married Lydia Knapp, who has proved a devoted and affectionate wife, and shared with me the joys and sorrows of our capricious being. I read law, was admitted to its practice, and have conducted some of the most important trials which our courts have witnessed. I was a member of our State Senate four years; was Lieut.-Governor two years; also, a member of the United States Senate seven years, and am now Attorney-General, an office which I accepted chiefly to aid the heroic cause.

We live just out of our beautiful village, on the banks of the lovely Chenango, and are surrounded by foliage and rural beauty, and, in their season, with birds and fruits and flowers, and have "neither poverty nor riches."

Four lovely children were born to us. I send you a melancholy memoir of the eldest; the second, a bright and beautiful boy, died in 1850, just as he was entering upon life. He was in the navy, and died at home of a disease contracted at Panama. He left a young widow and two fine boys, all remaining with us. Our third child, Lydia L., is the wife of a Mr. Courtney, a lawyer residing in New York; our youngest, Mary Stevens, married Mr. Mygatt, a lawyer, and they are at present with us. I have been thus particular, for I was sure that you would feel an interest in my domestic relations, as I certainly do in yours, and I beg of you to write me at a convenient time, concerning your family and friends.

I have, within the last ten or twelve years, been at Rochester often, but was so occupied with public duties that I never found time to visit the, to me, consecrated ground at Wheatland, until last June. Having occasion to attend a State trial at Lockport in my official capacity, Mrs. Dickinson, who has long been an invalid, but enjoys travelling, accompanied me; and having long regarded it as a religious duty to pay a visit to that scene of early days, I had promised Mrs. D. to take her with me. After the trial had closed, we went to Caledonia

by railroad, and from thence to Wheatland in a carriage furnished by a friend. The little school was there still, taught by a young girl. She was evidently embarrassed on seeing strangers, and the more so when informed who we were, and the occasion of the visit; but she demeaned herself with great propriety, and after conversation, asked me to make an address suited to the circumstances, which I attempted; but my heart choked my utterance, my voice was almost inaudible, my eyes filled with tears, and I found myself a child. How could it have been otherwise? I was an aged and white-haired man, with care and bereavement written on my forehead, standing where I had stood more than forty years before, when I had known neither. And where were the little confiding flock I had parted with in April, 1822? Alas! many had gone forever! perhaps death had the majority! The living were scattered worldwide by the strange events of life, and could never be gathered with their teacher until the final day! I remembered my favorite, Delia Stone, with her bright, blooming face, and her trim red flannel dress, but no one there could remember her. I inquired for others of my pupils, but echo answered "Where?" I went up to the former mansion of your father, Elder Stone, who used to call me "the Master," where your dear mother so often remembered me with doughnuts and pies while I "boarded round." The old house was there; but it had been abandoned by the owner for a more ambitious structure. The chimney had been taken from the venerated mansion; the hearthstone, the gathering-place of affection, had been removed, and all was full of desolation. Not a face did I see that I could recognize, nor did I find one who remembered me as the schoolmaster of an age gone by. It was a day to me full of strange and mingled emotions; my heart leaped with joy at the pleasant memories, and bled afresh to think their realities had passed away forever.

Though my head has been bleached by the frosts of sixtytwo winters, I have been blessed with excellent health; can read by night or day without glasses; am as straight and vigorous, though not as lithe and sprightly as when you knew me. I send you some of my speeches, and, if agreeable to you, shall be glad to correspond with you, for we evidently entertain the friendship and mutual regard of our spring-time.