Always, dear Mrs. Stowe, faithfully yours,
O. W. HOLMES.
To this letter Mrs. Stowe replied as follows:--
MANDARIN, _February_ 23, 1876.
DEAR DOCTOR,--How kind it was of you to write me that very beautiful
note! and how I wish you were just where I am, to see the trees laden
at the same time with golden oranges and white blossoms! I should so
like to cut off a golden cluster, leaves and all, for you. Well,
Boston seems very far away and dreamy, like some previous state of
existence, as I sit on the veranda and gaze on the receding shores of
the St. John's, which at this point is five miles wide.
Dear doctor, how time slips by! I remember when Sumner seemed to me a
young man, and now he has gone. And Wilson has gone, and Chase, whom I
knew as a young man in society in Cincinnati, has gone, and Stanton
has gone, and Seward has gone, and yet how lively the world races on!
A few air-bubbles of praise or lamentation, and away sails the great
ship of life, no matter over whose grave!
Well, one cannot but feel it! To me, also, a whole generation of
friends has gone from the other side of the water since I was there
and broke kindly bread with them. The Duchess of Sutherland, the good
old duke, Lansdowne, Ellesmere, Lady Byron, Lord and Lady Amberly,
Charles Kingsley, the good Quaker, Joseph Sturge, all are with the
shadowy train that has moved on. Among them were as dear and true
friends as I ever had, and as pure and noble specimens of human beings
as God ever made.
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