It true, what a dreadful accident that was at Harpersville! That was a fine neighborhood, and some of our best young people must have been lost. I wonder when this almost infernal folly-the skating mania—will give place to another. I expect to reach New York as I wrote, but unless the weather is good, and you are well, don't try to meet me. I can get over a dozen ways. Nothing new here. Love to L. and S. Your affectionate husband, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. ALBANY, January 21, 1863. MY DEAR LYDIA-I, that is, "this pleasing, anxious being," reached here about nine last evening. The "rat-baiters" have not all returned as yet, but will be up in force to-day. I am unusually busy, having a Canal Board Session, Land office ditto, and business with the Governor. Many letters-among them one from Mollie, one from Lucie, and one also from Aubie, but none of interest besides. Tell Lydia that I never enjoyed myself more in New York; -that her housekeeping is elegant, for me, and I enjoy a dinner or breakfast in her little dining-room ten times as much as in the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Nothing new. I have scarcely seen any one. I hope you will be careful, and enjoy yourself as much as possible. I shall catch up in a day or two, and will write more, and better. Love to all. Your affectionate husband, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. CONGRESS HALL, LYONS, January 27, 1863. MY DEAR LYDIA-I reached here in good time last evening, and had a good room, good supper, and a good rest. The trial in which I am engaged will not be very long nor laborious; but no sooner was it known that I was here, than handbills were out for a speech. I went to see your cousin, Mrs. S., and found her pleasantly located a little out of the village. I knew her by her resemblance to her good mother, and, to my surprise, she knew me at a glance. Mr. S. was out, and I had not the pleasure of meeting him. They live handsomely, and, I should judge, happily. They have two beautiful daughters, Helen and Virginia, the latter nanied after the loved and lost, and two fine little boys. Affectionately yours, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. MYGATT. ALBANY, March 2, 1863. MY DEAR MARY-I had a pleasant visit to New Milford. I think you and John may well be proud of your relatives. there, for I have seldom indeed, with all my large experience, seen such a pleasant home, such hospitality without pretension, such frank and friendly welcoming without over-doing, such complete good breeding and simplicity of manners, as I saw there. I knew that Nellie was a woman of uncommon cultivation; but some have it the natural way, some pick it up in society wherever they go, and as Nellie is a person of quick and clear perception, I did not think so much of it. But it seems to reign there, and I am surprised that in so small an interior town there should be so much finish and ease. I wrote your mother how they welcomed me, and everything was so till I left; and then Nellie would go with me to the dépôt to bid me good-bye. What a sad thing it is for one so well fitted to adorn society, and to give light and joy and hope to the domestic circle, to be so stricken. She is not as well as when with us, but is most of the time about. She was evidently very glad to see me, and did her best to make it pleasant for me. I am rejoic ed that I went, for it was a pleasure to me, and all the more as I was sure she so much enjoyed my visit. I could hardly see why; but I think she was very happy in her visit with us, and felt as if it would bring back some of the Orchard enjoyment. I shall always look upon her as a very lovely woman. The session will close about the middle of April, and now time seems to run fast. I long to be home again. Give love to Johnnie, Lottie, and the boys, and all be as happy as you can. Your affectionate father, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. MYGATT. ALBANY, March 4, 1863. MY DARLING MARY-I received your dear letter with photographs inclosed. John's is first-rate-making him look as comfortable as an alderman after his turtle soup. Yours, though a pretty good one, does not look as well as you do. It is an excellent one for those who know you; to a stranger it does not show you as bright and sprightly as you are. I am glad to get them. I would give much if I had good ones of my parents and of our own "loved and lost." You know not, my dear Mai, how much your father loves you, or how dear to him is your happiness; and my interest in John is the same. I was indeed full of gratified pride to see with what affection all the New Milford friends regarded you both. They could not say enough to prove their admiration. I shall always love and admire them for their friendship and regard for you. I cannot say enough about the pleasure of my visit there. It is absolutely affecting to see Nellie's affection for our family. I shall always be glad I went. Nellie seemed so delighted to see me, and I think enjoyed my stay in a degree beyond my comprehension. I do so hope she may recover her health, for she is too valuable to her friends and to society to be lost to earth. And yet she is better fitted for heaven than for this sorrowful existence. Give much love to all the dear ones at the Orchard, and believe me Your most affectionate father, MARY STEVENS. D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MR. WALBRIDGE, CHAIRMAN, AND OTHERS, COMMITTEE, &c., TOLEDO, OHIO. ALBANY, March 12, 1863. GENTLEMEN-I wish I could respond to your generous invitation of the 5th inst., by attending your meeting of the 18th in person; but I shall be unable to do so, and can only send you in this hasty note my acknowledgments and the assurances of my sympathy. Of all human problems, the one to me most difficult of solution is, how a loyal mind outside of a penitentiary or madhouse can in any manner, under any pretence, to any extent, or for any purpose, aid, assist, countenance, wink at, or apologize for the black and murderous conspiracy and rebellion which are engaged in attempting to destroy our holy hope-he Union. Our brave soldiers who are battling in this struggle-tenfold more important than that which was waged for American independence--deserve, and should receive, the love and thanks of every man and woman, and be cheered by the united voices of a whole people, regardless of age, sex, condition, or political designation or opinion. But we must blush to own, that the rebellion they are resisting in battles of blood upon the field, dying amidst the malaria of marshes, and enduring the privations of the camp to crush, is justified, stimulated, and encouraged by politicians at home, and that, too, in the sacred name of Democracy! Oh, Democracy! Democracy! how many abominations are practised in thy name! Thomas Jefferson was a Democrat, for he evolved the sublime theory of man's equality. Andrew Jackson was a Democrat, for he waged a war of extermination upon monopoly and privilege, and strangled the first serpent of secession by bold and intrepid measures, and by the star tling enunciation that "The Union must and shall be preserved." Both these great political lights remained faithful to the creed they cherished; they went to their rewards full of honors, and, like the setting sun, seemed greatest as they sank torest. They fought the good fight; they finished their course; they kept the faith. But if Jefferson had finally changed his theories of man's equality to the advocacy of a government based upon the foundations of perpetual negro slavery, and if Jackson had sought the destruction of the Union by armed rebellion, or had justified or apologized for those who did so, they would have better represented Demonology than Democracy, and their memories would have been scorned and execrated instead of being embalmed in a grateful nation's heart. Judas, so badly conspicuous in sacred history, breaks upon us as a disciple and follower of his meek and lowly master; but he was so no longer when he became copper-headed and copperhearted, and betrayed his Lord to the Confederate Priests. Benedict Arnold was the proud associate of Washington in the early history of the Revolution, and his name was upon every tongue for military skill and intrepid daring. In an evil hour, like modern Arnolds, he became "dissatisfied with the prosecution of the war and the administration of the government," seceded from his high estate, and was a Revolutionary patriot no longer, but "Left a traitor's name to other times, Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes." More manly, however, than his copyists of our day, this illustrious wretch did not content himself with apologizing for and justifying those who robbed and pillaged and murdered his countrymen, but he entered the service to which he had sold his polluted being, and was first and foremost in the work of havoc and destruction with his blood-red hand. And yet Judas should pass for a worthy disciple, and Arnold for a distinguished patriot, with those who believe it is good citizenship and true Democracy to resist or embarrass the government in its efforts to crush the rebellion which seeks our destruction as a nation. I am an old-fashioned and adhering Democrat, and believe in the sublime creed of Democracy to-day, as I have through a |