Stowe.
Last night we had a call from Arthur Tappan and Mr. Eastman. Father
begged $2,000 yesterday, and now the good people are praying him to
abide certain days, as he succeeds so well. They are talking of
sending us off and keeping him here. I really dare not go and see Aunt
Esther and mother now; they were in the depths of tribulation before
at staying so long, and now,
'In the lowest depths, _another_ deep!'
Father is in high spirits. He is all in his own element,--dipping into
books; consulting authorities for his oration; going round here,
there, everywhere; begging, borrowing, and spoiling the Egyptians;
delighted with past success and confident for the future.
"Wednesday. Still in New York. I believe it would kill me dead to live
long in the way I have been doing since I have been here. It is a sort
of agreeable delirium. There's only one thing about it, it is too
_scattering._ I begin to be athirst for the waters of quietness."
[Illustration: The home at Walnut Hills, Cincinnati.]
Writing from Philadelphia, she adds:--
"Well, we did get away from New York at last, but it was through much
tribulation. The truckman carried all the family baggage to the wrong
wharf, and, after waiting and waiting on board the boat, we were
obliged to start without it, George remaining to look it up. Arrived
here late Saturday evening,--dull, drizzling weather; poor Aunt Esther
in dismay,--not a clean cap to put on,--mother in like state; all of
us destitute.
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